


A Second Chance

by Redamber79



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fenris finally tells her what amata means, Guilt, Intimacy, Isabela is a Good Friend, Jealous Anders, Kidnapping, Light Angst, Marian and Fenris use their words, Merrill being Merrill, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Partial Nudity, Pregnancy, Protective Fenris, Swearing, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, pregnancy loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redamber79/pseuds/Redamber79
Summary: Marian Hawke is run down, sick, exhausted, and heartsick. She goes to Anders for help, but the revelation that she's pregnant with twins turns her world upside down.  As she tries to find a chance to tell Fenris, tensions with the Qunari come to a head.





	1. Do I Congratulate You?

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful barbex.

Marian Hawke sat alone in a tiny alcove in Anders’ clinic. She was mere steps from the secret entrance to her home. But everything felt distant and cold. Her head pounded in time with her pulse, and she felt an ache in her gut, as though she were likely to be sick at any moment.  No surprise, she’d been unwell the last month, and struggled to eat some days, much less keep food down. She had gone to Anders for something to help her sleep, though she hadn’t told him the full truth why insomnia had struck her lately. She'd rejected his advances time and again; if he learned what had happened with Fenris, she’d never get any peace from him.   
  
_ I've been thinking of you… _ Her eyes slid shut as she remembered his words that night, his low voice velvet over gravel, causing a different clenching in her abdomen than what plagued her now.  _ Command me to go, and I shall. _   
  
She most certainly had not. She could still feel his arms like iron bars around her, his lips against hers, the passionate sounds they made together, skin slicked with sweat. Even now, two months after he’d left, the thought of that night could clench her walls, grasping for the memory of him inside her, just for that one night.    
  
Marian had been no blushing virgin, but visits to the Rose certainly hadn't left her with this disquiet. That had been simply something to scratch an itch, relief for three years in Kirkwall without a lover.  She’d dallied with another of Athenril’s crew while she and Bethany worked off their year, but it hadn't been serious. She'd left a lover in Lothering, a Templar, of all things. Their casual pillowtalk had kept her family safe more than once, though he never knew it.  A thought tickled at the back of her mind, wondering briefly if he’d survived the Blight. 

 

In reality, she'd never felt this misery after an affair ended, her dalliances had always been casual things. Would it have been better to have sent Fenris away that night?  Maybe Anders would have been the better choice. She was certain she wouldn’t be losing sleep over him walking out, after all, she didn’t love him.   
  
_ Wait, love? What are you thinking, Marian! _ She scolded herself for her fancies, shaking her head.  Certainly, she was fond of Fenris, and the passion they’d found in each other's arms was nearly magical. Enough to stir stolen memories in the man, which unfortunately he couldn’t handle. 

 

But love? 

 

She found him incredibly attractive, the whipcord strength in his body had saved her more than once in their journeys.  Their quiet talks of their pasts had revealed a pained, regretful man, but his fierce determination to stand against his former master at last gave her a swell of pride in the broody elf.    
  
_ Varric has that name right _ , she mused, almost chuckling at the dwarf’s sly commentary a few years past. Fenris’ denial of his demeanor hadn’t deterred the sarcastic dwarf in the slightest.  _ Friend, if your brooding were any more impressive, women would swoon as they walked by. They’d have little broody babies- _   
  
Marian’s mind stuttered.   _ No _ .  She thought back, trying to recall her last menses. Orana had done her washing, so it was after they'd dealt with Hadriana. But that… that had been more than two months ago.  Surely since then…  _ No, no no no… _   
  
Anders chose that moment to knock on the frame of the alcove, having treated the last of his other patients.     
  
“What ails you Hawke, you’ve been avoiding my company for months,” he queried with a trace of bitterness in his voice, not looking at her.  “You made your choice, though what you see in that--” he stopped there, for last time he'd insulted Fenris she’d kicked him out of her home. A grimace traced his lips, and he sighed heavily.  Grudgingly, he lifted his eyes to her face, only to lunge forward to catch her as she slid from the small stool in a faint.    
  
“Marian!” he cried in shock, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the main room. He gently laid her on his wooden work table, and quickly checked her pulse and breathing. He left her side only to douse the lantern at his door, before slamming it shut against intrusion and scavengers, and dropping the bar across the door.   
  
“Come on, Hawke, this isn’t a laughing matter,” he scolded, though his worry carried clearly in his voice.   Marian’s eyes fluttered, and she murmured something too quiet for him to hear. He stretched out his healing energies, searching for injury or illness that might have caused her faint.  He soothed the headache gently, skipped past the irritated throat and stomach, heartburn could wait. He slid his hands lower, quick and professional. It wasn’t the first time he’d healed her, and he knew better than to cross the line he wished she'd invite him over.  His hands glowed softly with healing light as they reached her upper abdomen, still nothing…    
  
He froze, losing his hold on his magic, causing it to snap back to him in shock. He winced at the brief stab of a headache, then tentatively put his hands back on Marian’s lower abdomen, just above her pelvic bone.  _ That can’t be. _  His body stood motionless as his mind raced, his hands pressing gently over her womb. He stretched out his powers again, so very carefully, more cautious than he’d ever been.   
  
The clinical part of his mind was working in overdrive, noting the increased blood flow to the area, the tiny flicker that pulsed within her womb that was not Marian.  His eyes flickered over her, noting the pallor, the dark circles under her eyes. He’d attributed it to her mother's death when he’d noticed her general lack of health lately, and kicked himself now for ignoring the signs for fear of another rebuff.   
  
Marian groaned softly, then her eyes flew open.  Her hands twitched, her knives flicked from concealed wrist sheaths to her palms. Anders smiled softly at her, knowing her reflexes were such that she probably wouldn’t stab him, but he stayed very still, only pressing lightly with his fingertips.   
  
“Do I congratulate you?” he asked softly.   
  
Her eyes flew wide at his words, confirming what she'd only just realised herself.  She lifted a hand to rub across her eyes, freezing at the sight of the blade in her hand.  She flushed from embarrassment, and slid the daggers away again with a deft turn of her wrists.  She scrubbed her hands across her face, then peered up at Anders.    
  
“So, no spindleweed to help me sleep, right?” she asked ruefully.   
  
He stared at her for a moment. “You didn’t suspect?”   
  
“Can I get up now?” she demurred, avoiding his eyes.   
  
He helped her sit up, watching her carefully for any sign of another faint. When she seemed steady enough, he stepped behind a screen and rummaged around briefly. He soon found a wineskin of water, though it wasn't cold any longer, so he flicked a touch of magic at it, chilling it quickly.  He handed it to her without a word, still waiting for an answer to his previous question.   
  
She took a long drink, then sighed softly. “My menses, well, with Mother… I hadn’t noticed… I didn’t realise..”  She took another sip of the water, then furrowed her brow slightly in realisation before smiling up at the blond healer with a wry quirk of her lips. “Thanks for dealing with the headache anyway.”   
  
Anders felt his heart rate pick up at that familiar smile, before quickly quashing the hope in his chest.   _ Not happening you ass, she’s made that clear time and again, and now she's pregnant with that elf’s child. _   
  
“Fenris is the father, correct?” he asked, not quite able to keep a level tone. Marian froze at Fenris’ name, and Anders felt his temper climb. “What did he do, Marian.  He didn't… He wouldn’t have dared--”   
  
“Relax Anders, I don’t want to deal with Justice right now.  The angry glowing is sure to give me a headache again, and we’d hate to waste that lovely healing you’ve done.”  She steeled herself, then said softly, “We were only together once. And everything he did, I asked of him. Well, I didn’t asked for a babe, I’ll have to chastise him over that,” she joked softly, but Anders could see the pain in her eyes.  He opened his mouth to question her further, but she held up a hand, gesturing for him to keep his peace.   
  
“Is it… is it healthy?” she asked quietly, and Anders slid back into the persona of healer.   
  
“I’d only done the briefest of delving,” he replied.  “I was looking for the source of your faint. Exhaustion, grief over Leandra, and this pregnancy.  Though you’re certainly not gaining weight properly.” He cast a critical eye over her form, then met her eyes again. “Do you wish me to continue?”    
  
She hesitated a brief moment, then nodded.   
  
He closed his eyes, focused, and reached out his magic to her again. “That last time we… talked. Why didn’t you just say you were with him? You implied how you felt, but you didn’t say you’d slept with him.”   
  
“Not that it was your business, but I hadn’t!” she snapped, then flushed. “This was later. About two months ago.  Just before Mother…” she let her voice trail off. He knew what had happened. They all did.   
  
The healer hid a flinch at her reprimand; this was neither the time nor the place for him to pursue her.  He sent his magic through her gently, but with purpose; healing her abraded throat and soothing her stomach, though only temporarily.  He could feel the blood rushing through her veins, his magic linking them intimately, just for a few moments. He swept the tendrils lower to her womb, and smiled softly at what he found.   
  
“Marian, you're carrying twins.  That explains the exhaustion and illness, they take more out of you than a single babe would.”  Reluctantly he pulled back, not wanting to lose the connection, but knowing it wasn't his to request. “I can make up an herbal tincture for you, it will help settle the illness, and it's safe for the babes.  But you have got to start eating properly.”   
  
Marian shuddered and turned vaguely green, and Anders swiftly laid a palm to her forehead, sending a little more magic coursing through the woman before him. She swallowed thickly, and shook her head.  His expression grew stern, and he reached into a pocket for a bundle of waxed cloth. He unwrapped it deftly, and presented her with a small, slightly tacky ball of seeds and grains.    
  
“Eat it.  It's light enough you ought to be able to get it down, and the seeds and nuts and grains will give you energy.  Once your stomach is no longer twisting over from being empty, get some real food into yourself. Mildly seasoned meats, breads, tubers, fruits and vegetables … steer clear of shellfish, it spoils too easily. No more than a glass or two of wine a week. And Andraste's tits, you've got to stay out of fights. Send us. You don't have to do everything yourself!” Anders chided, his smooth accent rolling over her.   
  
She ducked her head like a scolded child, and took a tentative bite of the food he'd given her.  Her eyes widened at the flavour, and she devoured the rest quickly. She caught herself licking her fingers to capture the last of the honey and spices, and blushed when Anders chuckled at her softly.     
  
“I'll send the recipe to Orana, shall I?” he smirked, then laughed gently when she rolled her eyes at him. “Hawke…” he started hesitantly, then stiffened his resolve.  “Marian. Any way I can help, I will be here for you.”   
  
“Anders, please…” she sighed softly, shaking her head.    
  
He held his hands up to her, palms out in a conciliatory gesture.    
  
“I won't say anything further. But you will need support.  I know you don't want me the way I want you, but please, let me help you.”  

 

Hawke bit her lip, hesitant to agree to anything, as Anders had taken the mildest flirtation as a near declaration of love previously.  

 

He shook his head, and took her hand for a moment. 

  
“Consider it, Marian.  Please. That's all I’m asking.”  He released her hand, and helped her off the table, cautious of another faint.   He steadied her as she rose to her feet, though he smiled wryly at the irritated frown creasing her brow.  “I know you aren't a frail Orlesian flower, but you've been ill, fainted, had a shock, and haven't been eating properly for one, much less three.  Let the healer do his job.”   
  
She grinned up at him suddenly, mischief lighting her brilliant blue eyes and catching his breath in his throat.     
  
“If you ever think of comparing me to an Orlesian noble, I'll… I'll…”    
  
He threw his head back and laughed.   
  
“Andraste's ass, woman!” he exclaimed through his laughter. “What could you do that's worse than the Blight, the Circle, the Wardens, and living in Darktown?”   
  
Her smile turned positively gleeful.    
  
“I'll get Varric to fund another Deep Roads expedition, and drag you along.”   
  
He grinned down at her.     
  
“There's a cruel streak in you, Marian Hawke.”   
  
“What a thing to say, Anders.” She smiled sweetly at the healer, and smirked. “And to someone in my condition.”  He rolled his eyes as he turned to unbar the door.   
  
“Milking it already?” he snorted, his honey eyes crinkling in amusement. He grunted under the heavy bar's weight, shifting it to one side.  He turned towards her as he opened the door, a pithy comment on his lips, when one of her many knives flicked past his face to embed itself in the shoulder of the filthy beggar raising a sap behind the healer.  The wretched creature cried out in pain, and dropped the weapon, clutching at the wounded shoulder. Anders whirled about with a flare of blue edging along his fingers, his eyes glowing strangely.    
  
“You dare attack-“ he trailed off, the weird echo of Justice's voice fading.  “Andraste's flaming knickers!” he swore. “Dammitall, Hetch, what in blazes were you trying to do?” The healer roughly reached down and dragged the filthy beggar upright, leaning back from the fumes emanating from a broken-toothed mouth. “You idiot. Let's get you patched up, and I'll get you enough for a pint.”   
  
Hawke stepped forward, wary, but certain there was no immediate risk.     
  
“A pint?  Anders, you do know that he…” Hawke took another look. “She? Whomever, they tried to rob you, why a pint?”   
  
Anders pulled the knife swiftly free of the wound, and healed the injury.  He rubbed a bloodied hand over his forehead, heedless of the smears he was leaving on his own face.  He sighed heavily.    
  
“Because it's all I can do. I can't heal this illness.”  He pressed his palm to his patient's forehead, and willed the would-be thief into a deep slumber.  He turned tormented eyes back to Hawke, and handed her the knife she'd thrown. “I appreciate the rescue, all the same.”   
  
Hawke absently wiped the blade against her thigh, the ruddy leather barely showing the blood, which of course, was the point.  She sheathed the blade, then reached out a hand to her friend's shoulder, offering what comfort she could. Anders gave her a wan smile, and she could see the fatigue in his eyes.     
  
“Once you've settled that pint, come by the house.  I'll see you fed a decent meal, and you can make sure I eat,” she offered.     
  
He raised an eyebrow at her, knowing they both recalled the last time he was in her home, and the angry words he'd flung at her.  She held up a palm, and shook her head.    
  
“Leave it be, Anders.  It's past.”    
  
Anders looked at her sadly, shaking his head.   
  
“You do love him, don't you?” he asked softly, but his eyes said it wasn't a question, but a confirmation.    
  
Marian turned her head, blinking back tears, and cleared her throat. She looked back after a moment, laying a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“Thank you for your help, Anders.  I meant it about dinner. I miss my friend,” she told him gently.   
  
“Your friend,” Anders sighed. He smiled at her, a crooked thing. “I can live with that.  I'll walk you out.”   
  
“Anders, don't be ridiculous! I'm not fifteen feet from the entrance, I think I'll be fine!” she protested, annoyed again.   
  
“Need I remind you, Hawke, that you fainted a half-candlemark past?” Anders smirked, scooping up his staff and throwing a satchel over his shoulder.   
  
“You aren't going to let that go, are you?” she muttered, leading the way to the door to her estate. She raised an eyebrow as he closed and locked the door behind them. “Are you going to be my shadow up the stairs as well, so I don't stub my toes?”   
  
He flashed her his boyish, charming grin.   
  
“Of course not! But I have this pesky patient who will be taking up a lot of my stock of herbs over the next seven moons or so.”   
  
Marian rolled her eyes, but a hint of her usual smile flitted about her lips, and her blue eyes sparkled.   
  
“Such an imposition. You should charge them extra,” she teased, her smile broadening to a grin when Anders laughed. “Alright, thank you for the escort, now I think I can climb a few flights without collapsing. I'll see you this evening.”   
  
She gave a jaunty wave, unlocking and slipping through the door from Darktown to her home. Anders stared after her a moment, then turned away with a sigh.  _ Friends. So be it. _   
  
**   
  
Marian reached the main floor without incident, though when her Mabari attempted his usual enthusiastic greeting, she did have to settle him quickly, rather than having their usual romp.   
  
She penned a quick note to Fenris, asking him to stop by.  She sent Bodahn off to deliver the note, then stopped to pet her oversized lap dog properly.   
  
“You're such a good boy, Bear,” she told him, scratching his ears. “You'll take care of us, right? I hate to say that you'll have to get accustomed to a bit more racket though, babies are notoriously loud.”   
  
A gasp sounded behind her, and she whirled, daggers at the ready. Aveline stood staring at her, and Marian watched as her friend's gaze dropped to her midriff.  _ Blast _ .   
  
“Too early,” she said calmly as she stood, not bothering to deny what she'd said. Aveline gaped at her a moment, then gathered her wits.   
  
“Fenris is the father?” she asked, as always the very model of tact.   
  
“Yes. No, I haven't told him yet, I just found out. If he's home however, he should be along shortly, I've just sent Bodahn out.” Marian stretched, and indicated the kitchen with a nod of her head.   
  
The two women entered the spacious kitchen, and Marian made a beeline for a loaf of bread, suddenly ravenous. She cut a thick slice, then spread it with her favourite jam, and cut a wedge of cheese. She collected a couple boiled eggs, and poured a mug of cider.  Aveline scooped up an apple, well familiar with Marian's hostess capabilities, which were non-existent.    
  
Marian dropped to a chair, and began peeling the eggs, looking at Aveline in curiosity.    
  
“What brings you here today? I assume something semi-official,” she asked, taking a bite of her egg before salting the second half. She popped it into her mouth, chewing messily as she raised her eyebrows at her friend.   
  
“Hawke, I don't know how you pass in high society, I truly don't,” Aveline’s tone was a mix of amusement and disgust. Marian's spine straightened, suddenly her ankles were crossed, and she was sipping her cider with her little finger stuck out. Her blue eyes were locked on Aveline with an expression of vapid interest. She nearly fluttered her eyelashes.  Aveline's amusement won out with a bark of laughter.   
  
“Alright, alright. And the request is semi-official, yes. Two nights ago one of my guards was set upon by two elves, and murdered. Now they've gone to the Qunari for sanctuary.  I need your help retrieving them. You’re the only one with a chance of making the Arishok listen.”   
  
“I think you greatly overestimate my influence with him,” Marian replied, munching on the wedge of cheese. She had a feeling it would be a long day, and she would need her energy. “Alright, let me finish my food, we'll wait for Fenris, and then go. The Arishok may actually like him, rather than simply not hoping he dies.”   
  
Aveline nodded, hesitant, then dove into her question as though she were charging into battle. Which was an accurate assessment of many conversations with the Guard Captain.    
  
“How will this affect you and Fenris?” she asked bluntly.   
  
“Maker, I don't know, Avi. I barely know how I feel about being pregnant. I think I'm happy about it. But it's a lot to take in. And he did leave. … I wish my mother…” Marian's face dropped to her hands, her shoulders shaking. The next moment she was wiping her eyes angrily. “Blast it all, I swear, I have never been this emotional in my life!”   
  
“If I understand correctly, that's a common reaction,” Aveline sympathized.   
  
“A common reaction to what?”    
  
The two women turned to see Fenris standing in the doorway, his green eyes taking in the scene before him. Aveline opened her mouth to respond but Marian cut her off immediately.   
  
“Mother dying, of course. What else?” Marian said smoothly, meeting her one time lover's eyes with a steady, if watery, gaze.  As usual, he looked away first. “At any rate, we must pay a visit to the Arishok, I'd like you to come along, if you don't mind.”   
  
“I am at your command,” he said softly, the gravel in his low voice tugging at her.   
  
Marian's gaze flicked away to Aveline, who for once didn't blurt out her first thoughts, and simply raised an eyebrow.  Marian coughed, flushing slightly, and continued to eat her meal. Fenris strode across the kitchen, helping himself to a piece of cheese, and scooping up an egg. As he sat at the table across from Marian, Aveline cleared her throat and ducked out of the room, leaving Marian with a mouthful of food, facing her erstwhile lover.   
  
“I'd actually sent Bodahn before Aveline even arrived with her errand. I was hoping to speak with you, Fenris,” Marian avoided his eyes, her usual confident manner gone, leaving her hesitant and nearly shy.   
  
Fenris watched her carefully, and she saw his gaze pausing at the dark circles under her eyes, the hollows of her cheeks.  He frowned slightly, and she wondered, was Fenris worried about her?   
  
“I am always willing to listen to you, Marian.” He spoke softly, as though coaxing a frightened animal, and her cheeks flushed further at his use of her name. She'd asked him to call her Marian their night together, but until this moment, he'd reverted to calling her Hawke.  She took a deep breath, and met his eyes.   
  
“I don't want to make things complicated, Fenris, but--"    
  
“I am going to die!” Isabela burst into the kitchen, Aveline on her tail, looking resigned and frustrated at the interruption. Marian sighed heavily, and casting Fenris a regretful look, she waved the pirate in.   
  
“What did you do?” Marian asked, her head in her hands.   
  
“The Relic, the one I've been searching for? I know where it is, and the name of the fence, but we need to go now, before he sells it to Tevinter.  If I don't get it, Castillon will never let me live.”   
  
“You're sure it's the Relic this time? Not like the last time we ran off to chase down a lead?” Marian asked, wanting to be certain this time.   
  
“I'm positive,” Isabela asserted, looking slightly shamefaced.   
  
“Hawke, have we really got time for this?” Aveline asked.   
  
“It's alright Avi. We'll take care of this, and then chase down your murderers,” Marian reassured her.   
  
Aveline looked displeased, but nodded.  Marian met Fenris' eyes again for a moment, and he gave her a small smile, just one corner of his mouth twisting upward.   
  
_ Later? _ He mouthed, quirking an eyebrow. Marian nodded but inside her stomach was churning. Whether nerves or the tiny babies within her, she didn't know. But she stood and waved Aveline and Isabela out of the kitchen ahead of her. As she passed Fenris, she murmured softly, knowing his sharp hearing would catch her words.   
  
“I can tell you later, there's time.”   



	2. The Tome of Koslun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela admits the Relic she stole was the Tome of Koslun, and the reason for the Qunari occupation becomes clear. The Qunari swarm through the city, until Hawke and her companions face him in the Viscount's Keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks to barbex for her help as my beta!
> 
> And to the Discord crew for many writing sprints to keep me on track.

“The Tome of Koslun? The most sacred text of the Qunari people?” Fenris demanded, glaring at Isabela as she squirmed under the disapproving gaze of her friends.  
  
Aveline’s fists were clenched in her belt, as though she didn't trust herself to not strangle the pirate. Marian could sympathize, thinking furiously as she wiped her blades quickly on her leathers, watching for another ambush. The section of Lowtown near the foundry was notoriously dangerous, even by Lowtown standards.  
  
“The Qunari have been here for almost five years, and you're the cause? The tensions, the Viscount's son dead, all this because their ship sank, and they were chasing you when it happened!” Aveline spat, taking a step toward Isabela.  Marian put a hand on her chest and stopped her advance.  
  
“Enough! We'll deal with it. We can't change the past, so we go forward.”  
  
“Undoubtedly, if the Relic were returned, it would go a long way to smooth the tensions. They might even leave,” Fenris noted.  
  
“And if I can't give the Relic to Castillon, he will kill me!” Isabela protested, her eyes fearful and desperate. “Hawke, _please!_ ”  
  
Marian shook her head.  
  
“Isabela gets the Relic. We'll sort out the Qunari another way, maybe send them after Tevinter, if we can convince them the trade went through. But first we need to _get_ it. Let's go.”

 

**

 

Marian stood facing the Arishok, her hearing buzzing as her blood roared.  The city was burning, Isabela had vanished with the blasted Relic, and the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander had nearly come to blows. The Viscount was dead.    
  
The stench of blood, viscera, and smoke hung heavily in the air, along with the stink of sweat, fear, and expensive perfume that identified the nobility, those cowering against the walls before the enormous Qunari who had beheaded their ruler.  
  
Marian shook out her arms, trying to ease the tension and fatigue threatening to drag her down. She thought about downing a stamina potion, but hesitated, not certain what it might do to her babes. She stood with Aveline and Fenris, with Merrill behind them, whose usually open countenance was now tense and determined. Bear was, as always, watching Marian's back.  
  
The Arishok was making threats about the Relic, promising a Qunari invasion, his rumbling voice booming through the throne room. The nobles flinched back as a group, save for one brave fool who stepped forward and was swiftly cut down.

 

Marian searched for a way to resolve the tensions before the Qunari slaughtered their way through the entire city. With Isabela's disappearance she felt no compunction about keeping her secret, and told the Arishok that Isabela had disappeared with the Book.  The giant nodded at that, and spoke calmly once more.

 

“We know the thief's identity. That you do not hide her speaks well of you.  Maraas toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit-an." He turned to nobles, pointing back at Hawke. "This is what respect looks like, bas! Some of you will never earn it!

 

“So tell me Hawke. You know I am denied Par Volen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?”

 

The Arishok tightened his grip on his weapons as he spoke, an enormous sword in one hand, a fearsome double-bladed axe in the other.  Marian tended, preparing for battle, when the doors behind her burst open, and a noxious cloud felled the two Qunari nearest the door. Isabela sauntered in, deliberately stepping onto the chest of one of the downed soldiers on her way forward, the Tome of Koslun tucked casually under one arm.  
  
“This is your influence, Hawke,” she complained as she handed over the Relic. “You and your bloody ideals and self-sacrifice.”  
  
The Arishok trailed his fingers over the book with a touch far more delicate than Marian would have thought possible, then handed it to his second in command.  
  
“We have what we came for, Hawke. We will take our leave.” Marian started to relax, the awful tension easing across her shoulders. “With the thief.”  
  
“No.” The word was out before Marian had decided to speak, but she knew that thinking about it wouldn't have changed her reply. “You have your Relic, time for you to leave my city.”  
  
“Hawke, you would have us ignore the theft, this insult? It cannot stand. She will come with us, or you will all die.” The Arishok did not threaten, he simply stated his words as fact, sending a chill down Marian's spine.  Isabela had shifted her stance, ready to pull her daggers, Aveline's sword was at rest in her hand, but Marian saw her adjust her grip on her shield. Bear gave a low growl behind her, reacting to the danger to his mistress. Fenris stood with the point of his greatsword grounded in the tiles, his hands resting on the pommel.  
  
Fenris stepped forward then, and Marian felt a surge of hope, that his surprising knowledge of the Qun would help them navigate this tense moment.  
  
“There is another way,” he suggested, meeting the Arishok's eyes with a level gaze, not the least intimidated by the massive leader of the Qunari.  “You have named Hawke _basalit-an_ , one worthy of respect.  She is worthy of facing you.”  
  
“Hawke, no!” came the urgent near-whisper from Aveline. Marian held up a hand to Aveline, stopping further objections. She looked at Fenris, her brilliant blue eyes shadowed with regret she had no time to express.  Fenris met her eyes; she could see him trying to decipher her expression, and she turned back to the Arishok before her resolve faltered.  
  
“I challenge you,” she announced proudly as her stare hardened to agate. “You have despoiled our city, murdered our Viscount, terrorized our people. You will not take another soul.”  
  
The Arishok met her gaze, a recognition that was nearly pride in his eyes.  
  
“Truly _basalit-an_ . You will fall, the thief will leave with us, but your city will be safe. For now. I cannot say we will never return to these shores.”  
  
Marian turned to her friends, and laid her hand on Aveline's shoulder, gripping it tightly. Bear nudged at her other hand, and she ruffled his ears, comforting them both for a moment.  
  
“It's alright Aveline. It will be alright.” Aveline opened her mouth to reply, but instead stepped back, shaking her head.  Marian nodded to Merrill, then Isabela, whose eyes were wide and haunted, perhaps finally realizing this was because of her. Marian turned to Fenris, and stepped closer, dropping her voice to a whisper.  “I'm sorry, Fen. We may not get a chance for that talk.”  
  
Fenris shook his head, the shock of white hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at her.  
  
“You can defeat him, Marian,” he told her softly. “I would not have suggested it if I did not believe it. Use your skills, and we will talk later.”  
  
Marian turned to face her opponent, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“And when I win, we will allow your men to leave. They will not be taking Isabela either; the Relic, of course, goes with them.”  
  
“So be it.”

**  
  
Fenris allowed nothing to show on his face, his years as a slave having taught him to keep an impassive countenance no matter the circumstances.  He'd let that habit slip in his years in Kirkwall, but it came back to him easily, his stance relaxed. Aveline stood nearby, her jaw rippling as she clenched her teeth, in concern or anger he didn't know. Isabela stood, shuffling her feet as she watched her fate play out, wringing her hands until Merrill quietly stepped to her side and took one of them between her own.  
  
The only sign of Fenris' disquiet was his pulse, beating rapidly at his throat. All he could think of was their night together, how he'd left her, the desolate look on her face. He'd returned to her side to hold her when her mother was murdered. She'd wept in his arms, and asked him softly to stay until she slept. He'd stayed the night to watch over her, his heart aching for her. Now he watched her battle for her life and Isabela's.  If she fell, he might never forgive himself.  
  
A flash of motion caught his attention again, and he watched as Marian, still gasping from being flung into a pillar, appeared behind the Arishok, thrusting her daggers into his back, low where a human would have kidneys to be ruptured. The Arishok shouted in pain, and spun faster than any creature of that size ought to be able.  
  
**  
  
Marian swore as one of her daggers was ripped from her hands as the Arishok twisted to strike at her. She ducked and threw herself backwards desperately, her ribs protesting with a sharp stab, and feeling a strange pull in her abdomen that left her panting. A cold fist of fear tightened about her spine, remembering Anders’ warning to be more cautious, that twins would be more draining than a single babe would have been.  
  
_Too late now_ , she thought to herself in resignation. She realized suddenly she may have overestimated her abilities. When the Arishok charged her again, and she barely dodged in time, she amended that thought. _I probably won't survive this._  
  
She heard a low growl, and gave a feral grin as her mabari waded into the fight, snapping and snarling as he went for a hamstring. The Arishok dropped to one knee, and Marian took the opportunity to steal back her dagger, tearing it through his flesh as she pulled it loose. Her opponent roared, and she watched in dismay as he downed a healing potion.  She could feel her heart racing, her lungs straining as fatigue pulled at her, the sharp pain in her right side where she'd hit that damn pillar. Between the fight to retrieve the Relic, the running battle through the city, and now this duel, her muscles were aching with fatigue, slowing her movements.  
  
_I'm sorry, little ones,_ she sent to them, downing a stamina potion, hoping they would be alright. They wouldn't be if she fell.  
  
She ducked behind a pillar for a moment, concentrating as she focused a sigil over the Arishok; the Mark of the Assassin. Her mother had never appreciated her studies, but now they might save several lives. She tossed a smoke grenade and slipped into the shadows, and sped forward to slash on the way past, then turned and leapt, stabbing both daggers into his back.  
  
The Arishok roared, spinning and catching her unawares. He thrust with his monstrous sword, catching her low in her abdomen, and to her horror, _lifted_ the blade and her with it, so she dangled helplessly, pressed against the crossguard, agony shredding her focus.  
  
With the last of her concentration, she pulled one of her narrow, poisoned knives. She took a shuddering breath, and drove the knife through one large eye, slamming the pommel with her other hand, sending it deep into the Arishok's brain.

**

 

The combatants collapsed motionless to the floor, and a tension began rising in the throne room. Aveline sprinted to Marian's side, but Fenris was there first. He'd shifted through the fade, his markings lit with their ethereal glow. Several of the Qunari stirred restlessly; the Lyrium Ghost had developed more than a small notoriety in Seheron.  
  
“Marian. Marian, please...” Fenris called to her, breathing a sigh of relief as she groaned in pain.  She was alive.  
  
Aveline stood and faced the remaining Qunari warriors.  
  
“Our champion lives, your leader lies dead. Honour his pact. Leave, now.” Aveline's stern, even voice held the ring of command, and the Qunari responded to it. They began to file out of the throne room. The Arishok's second stopped before them.  
  
“The Arishok's blade. It is required.” He did not make it a question or a request. He simply stated it as fact.  
  
“Merrill, have you learned any healing?” Fenris demanded, his hands busy pulling healing potions from his belt pouch. The mage wrung her hands, and shook her head.  
  
“Anders wouldn't teach me,” she replied.  “He was afraid I'd…” She glanced at the crowd, and cleared her throat. “He thought I'd be too flighty for it.”  
  
“Isabela, here. Your hands are steadiest.  I'll hold her still, pull the blade on my mark. Merrill, take these potions.  Be ready to pour two of them over her wounds as the blade is withdrawn. The third we need to get down her throat, hitting that pillar did more than knock the wind out of her. It's the best we can do, we haven't time to search for a healer.”  
  
Fenris snapped orders without a thought they might hesitate, nor did they. Not with Hawke's life on the line.  He nodded, and Isabela grasped the sword with two hands, and began drawing it from Hawke's body. They all endeavoured to ignore the pained moan from Hawke, even though she did not waken. Isabela grunted under the weight of the sword, and then Aveline was there, adding her strength. The Guard Captain took the hilt as Isabela simply slid the blade back with her bare hands, heedless of the razor edge slicing her palms and fingers as she kept it moving.  
  
Fenris watched intently as he held Marian, and the moment the blade was no longer protruding from her back, he snapped out Merrill's name in a clipped tone. Marian coughed suddenly, flecks of blood painting her lips and chin. To Merrill’s credit, there was no hesitation. She'd already unstoppered the potion, and she upended the contents over the wound, watching as the blood slowly congealed, stopping the bleeding.  
  
“Ready another. One will not suffice for this wound,” Fenris instructed, his eyes closed and his arms unmoving as he held Marian.    
  
The sword continued its slow slide, grating on her armour, blood pouring from the wound. Fenris could feel the change when the blade came loose, and quietly spoke as Marian gagged and more blood trickled from her lips.  
  
“Merrill, again!” Fenris held Marian closely as Merrill poured a vial over the wound just above her belt. Fenris ripped the stopper from a third potion with his teeth, and pressing at the corners of Marian's jaw, got her mouth open. He tipped the healing draught into her mouth, stroking gently down her throat to get her to swallow.  He ignored all the buzzing thoughts in his head, but one snuck through again and again.  
  
_I cannot lose her like this._  
  
Peripherally, he was aware of Isabela walking to the new commander of the Qunari forces, her palms bleeding freely, but no trace of pain on her face. She handed the sword over, giving the warrior a slight nod. He took it from her carefully, then strode from the throne room without a word.  
  
Apparently his departure freed the nobles from their stunned silence, a great wail and outcry rising from their ranks. Aveline grimaced, but stepped forward to deal with them as Merrill handed Isabela a healing potion. Fenris continued to hold Marian, brushing her sable hair back from her face, watching as the terrible wound slowly ceased bleeding and began to close.  
  
**  
  
Her eyes opened slowly, a pained grimace on her delicate features. She glanced about, tension and pain singing through her body. She groaned in agony, but when she saw the Arishok's body, some of that tension leached from her frame.  She realized suddenly she was held in strong arms, and recognized Fenris’ embrace instantly.  
  
“Fen,” she croaked, then coughed roughly, spitting a gob of bloody mucous to the tiles.  
  
“Easy, amata,” he told her softly, helping her to her feet. She glanced at him quizzically at the unfamiliar word, and he gave her a rare smile. “I'll tell you later.”  
  
She took a shuddering breath, pressing her hand to her abdomen. The terrible wound was closed, but her hand came away soaked in her blood, and she could feel more blood trickling down her thighs under her leather breeches.  She swayed a moment as Fenris steadied her, and she grabbed his arm for support without thinking. Finally she felt able to stand without toppling, and straightened her spine. Just as she stepped forward to add her voice to calming the hysterical nobility, a cold, commanding voice rang through the vaulted room.  
  
“What goes on here?” Knight-Commander Meredith demanded, striding forward, her armour singed and bloodied.  
  
Marian turned to face the Knight-Commander, noting Merrill ducking her head as she side-stepped behind Isabela in the face of so many Templars.  
  
“The Qunari have left. Well, most of them. What to do with those who remain--" she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the body of the Arishok “--I'll leave to others to decide.”  
  
Meredith's lips thinned, and Marian could tell she was not quite satisfied with the flippant reply. But as she scanned the throne room, a new cry built in the crowd of nobility.  
  
“Hawke! Hawke! HAWKE!”  
  
Meredith gave a nod and a smile, but Marian knew it for a simple curve of the lips, and certainly not a sign of pleasure or approval.  
  
“Well, it seems Kirkwall has a new Champion.”  
  
“HAWKE! HAWKE! HAWKE!”  
  
**  
  
Fenris watched carefully as Marian's well-wishers and assorted bootlickers tried to surround her, many simply to be able to declare in the future, _Well, I was speaking to the Champion the other day…_ She turned to Fenris, her eyes pleading.  
  
“The Champion needs to rest and see her injuries tended to, move!” he growled, his brows drawing down in a ferocious scowl, his greatsword held bare in one hand.  The nobles shied away from the fearsome, tattooed warrior, and he swiftly helped Marian reach the doors. Isabela and Merrill followed quickly, but Aveline was caught in the crush of nobles. The moment the huge doors closed behind them, Marian sagged against Fenris, who scooped her into his arms immediately.  
  
“Anders… get me to Anders,” she gasped, clutching her abdomen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Amata: Tevene term of endearment


	3. "I won't let anything happen to you, Marian."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris seeks out Anders to heal Marian, but they return to find her miscarrying the babes that Fenris didn't know existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags, pregnancy loss in this chapter.
> 
> As always, beta'd by the incredible barbex. :)

Fenris strode through the Keep, carrying Marian carefully in his arms. He spoke quickly to Merrill and Isabela, ignoring the gawking from the nobles and guardsmen alike who had emerged since the Qunari's departure.  
  
“I'm taking her to her estate. Once I get her comfortable, I'll head to Darktown for the mage.”  
  
“Fen,” Marian's voice was weak, and Fenris noted with some alarm that her pallor had increased. “Basement, secret exit. Mother’s key in my desk.”  
  
Fenris nodded in understanding, remembering the first time he'd fought by her side after joining her, then saw her eyes had closed.  
  
“I'll get him. I won't let anything happen to you, Marian.”  
  
Luckily the Hawke estate was close, and Bodahn opened the door quickly on recognizing Fenris' voice. He stood stunned for a moment, then darted off to fetch Orana, knowing the elven girl would be a help to her mistress. Aveline had finally caught up, and helped stretch a second blanket and a mass of towels on Hawke's bed, then had Fenris lay her on them.  
  
“Really? I doubt Hawke will care about a stain or two on the sheets…” Isabela snarked, her fear coming out in sarcasm. Aveline bristled, but Fenris answered without looking up from Marian.  
  
“Whatever her injuries, it will be easier to change out towels rather than remake the entire bed. Less disturbance for her. Now try not to kill each other. Your life came at a high price today.” Fenris stared at Isabela, who curled in on herself, then nodded.  He turned to Aveline. “I'll be back as soon as I can with the mage. Her armour is obviously a loss. Cut it loose if you have to.”  
  
He strode to Marian's desk, and rummaged around in the drawer, finally finding the key shoved to one side, underneath a coin purse. He paused a moment, staring at Marian, then turned and ran from the room.  
  
**  
  
Isabela snorted as she watched Fenris vault the railing, barely making a sound as he landed a floor below.  
  
“Show off,” she muttered, then turned back to Aveline and Merrill. “Kitten, let's raid the linen closet and bathing room, Big Girl can get Hawke out of her armour, and Orana should be along in a moment to help.”  
  
Aveline started with Hawke's helm, loosening the chin strap, and sliding it carefully off. Hawke murmured something unintelligible, and Aveline kept moving. She removed Hawke's gloves, and boots. She undid Hawke's belt, careful of the assorted knives. Next she eyed the great rent in the armour, and sighed. There was no way to cut the hardened leather away quickly. She sliced the straps, peeling the armour open, swallowing at the large red stain marring the jerkin. A gasp came from the doorway, and Aveline made a guess.  
  
“Orana?” The soft-spoken elven girl stepped into her line of sight, staring at the blood covering her mistress. “I need your help. I'll hold her upright, I need you to slide her armour off.  Hopefully Anders will be here soon.”  
  
“What happened to Mistress Hawke?” Orana asked quietly, her voice fearful, but her hands steady as she removed the layers of armour.  
  
“She defeated the Arishok in single combat. But she was gravely injured, stabbed through the middle, before she felled him.”  
  
Orana gasped at that, noticing the placement of the rent in Hawke's armour, then continued to undress her mistress.  
  
“Oh no, but the babe…” Orana exclaimed, then flushed crimson at the look Aveline gave her.  “Forgive me, I wouldn't speak out of turn, but I overheard you speaking this morning, and so knew you knew.”  
  
“Wait, did you already know, Orana?” Aveline asked softly, laying Hawke down, her torso covered only by her breastband. Aveline gently undid the laces and buckles on Hawke's leather pants, and started to pull them down carefully. She grunted in effort, the leathers sticking to Hawke's legs.  
  
“Well, yes. Mistress’ moonblood has always been consistent. Then it stopped, and she's lost weight, but has been sick for more than a fortnight. And she'd complained of being tender.” Here she gestured at Hawke's chest, and Aveline flushed slightly.  
  
“No one knows, but us and Anders. Be still about it.”  Aveline instructed as she finally succeeded in tugging the leathers loose. “Shit! ISABELA, I NEED THOSE LINENS NOW!” she shouted, her parade-ground bellow easily heard in the basement, much less down the hall.  
  
Orana took one look and raided the wardrobe, swiftly folding a linen tunic into a dense pad, and pressing it to her mistress's groin.  
  
“She's losing the babe,” Orana stated sadly.  
  
Aveline met her gaze, and shook her head, though it wasn't a denial.  
  
“Babes.”  
  
**  
  
Fenris raced down the stairs, making his way through the storerooms to the exit to Darktown. He quickly unlocked the door, noting the mechanism was well oiled, and slammed it behind him, hearing the click as it locked again automatically.  He followed the short passageway, then emerged near Anders' clinic, and ran to the door, grateful the lantern was lit.  
  
Bursting into the clinic, he found Anders healing a burned child, the mother wringing her hands nearby, heedless of the reddened flesh of her arm where she too was injured.  Fenris ignored the people waiting, and strode to the healer's side. There he waited, wishing to interrupt, but knowing it too dangerous. So he waited. Soon enough the glow of healing faded from Anders, and the searing red and white of the child's injury did as well. Anders came out of his trance, and nearly buckled at the knees.  Fenris caught him quickly, and shook him carefully to get his attention. Anders’ eyes snapped to Fenris, and a look of guarded hesitation crossed the mage's features. Fenris had no time to decipher it.  
  
“It's Marian,” he said without preamble. “Tell me you haven't drained yourself mage, she needs you.”  
  
“Andraste's flaming ass, what happened?!” he demanded, ransacking his supplies, searching for a lyrium potion.  
  
“She fought the Arishok, defeated him in single combat.” Fenris’ voice was tightly controlled. “She was run through in the process. We got healing potions into her immediately, but she's still weakening, and asked for you. She'd lost consciousness on the way to her estate.”  
  
“Shit!” Anders eyed him warily. “I'm afraid I am drained, I've been healing for hours. I might have a solution, but let's get to her first.” He turned to his assistant, an older woman who had been accused of being an apostate, but was merely a talented midwife and hedge healer. “Rosalie, I can do nothing more tonight. We're down to bandages and poultices, but I'm needed urgently elsewhere.”  
  
There was a low, resentful growl from the crowd waiting as the healer snatched up his satchel and staff, preparing to leave.  Fenris stepped in front of him, raising his voice.  
  
“The Champion of Kirkwall, whom you know as Hawke, is in dire need of healing.  She defeated the leader of the Qunari this day. Would you deny her the healing she requires?”  
  
The crowd hushed, several people turning away to hide their faces, others staring at the ground in shame.  Some grumbling continued, but those were shushed by their neighbours.  
  
“Andraste's blessin’ on ‘er. She's saved more of us than she knows,” an ancient woman rasped. “Get on with ye, we'll bide.”  
  
Fenris led Anders through the crowd, and when Anders would have descended the stairs to navigate through the sewers and passages of Darktown, Fenris took him by the elbow and pulled him down a darkened passage instead.  
  
“We can't get through without a key, Fenris,” Anders commented, annoyed.  
  
“Just a moment, mage.” Fenris stepped forward, his sharp eyes spotting the hidden keyhole. He pulled the key out of his belt pouch, and quickly turned the lock. The door swung open, and Anders' jaw dropped.  
  
“You've a key to a door that comes out next to my clinic?!” he demanded.  
  
“Leandra's key, from her youth. Not mine,” Fenris shrugged. “You said you were drained, but that you had an idea. Let's hear it.”  
  
Anders flicked a glance at him, but kept walking, following the elf up the stairs.  
  
“If needed, what would you do to save her?” Anders asked instead of explaining.  
  
“I would give my life for hers, without question,” Fenris told him, calm and certain.  
  
“Good. It won't come to that. But what I need to ask may be harder than giving your life.” Anders laid a hand on Fenris' elbow, risking his temper to get him to stop and look at him.  “I need your lyrium.”  
  
Fenris slid backward, scarcely seeming to move, but he was no longer under Anders' hand.  
  
“You ask much, mage,” Fenris growled.  
  
“I'm asking for her,” Anders reminded him, his gaze unwavering.  
  
Suddenly they both heard Aveline's voice raised in a desperate shout from above, and Fenris grabbed the mage and shifted up the stairs in a blur. They burst out into the foyer, and Fenris sped them up to the second floor, reaching Marian's bedchamber in seconds. Anders stumbled as they stopped, only Fenris' hand catching at his shoulder preventing a fall.  
  
“Please warn me next time,” Anders muttered, shaking his head to clear it. The two men turned to the bed, and suddenly Fenris had shifted to Marian's side, holding her hand and calling her name.

 

**  
  
Isabela and Merrill rushed in, arms piled high with linens, towels, and Isabela held a basin of steaming water on her hip. They stopped in the doorway, the spacious bedchamber crowded with the sheer numbers. Isabela moved to the desk to deposit the basin, and suddenly caught sight of the bed’s occupant.  
  
“Oh no…” she said softly, her face crumpling, seeing the blood soaked fabric Orana held against her nethers. She watched as Anders strode to the bedside next to Fenris, and saw the tattooed elf blanch, his face stricken as he saw the blood soaked cloth between Marian's thighs.

“Marian… _gravidum_?” he whispered, slipping into Tevene in his shock. He quickly laid a hand on Anders' shoulder, and allowed his tattoos to flare, grimacing in pain as the lyrium heated his blood. Anders jolted, as though struck by one of Merrill's lightning spells. His eyes glowed blue for a moment, and he placed one hand over Hawke's stab wound, and the other over her ribs, the yellowing bruise showing where she'd impacted the pillar.  
  
Aveline turned, and waved Isabela and Merrill out.  
  
“Can you get to Varric, Merrill? Lowtown is a mess, but he'll be sorting things at the Hanged Man.  Isabela…” Isabela stared at the bed, deaf to her surroundings. Aveline stepped closer and took her arm, causing the rogue to startle, her hand reaching for a knife before she caught herself. “Isabela, the mages weren't under lockdown yet. Can you get word to Bethany?”  
  
“What do I tell her?” Isabela demanded, her eyes damp. “What can I possibly say?”  
  
Aveline gave her an understanding look.  
  
“Tell her that yes, she was injured. Yes, it was serious. But that she will heal, and we'll make sure Hawke writes to her as soon as possible.”  
  
“But--" Isabela stopped at a sharp wave of Aveline's hand. The dusky pirate slid her eyes to the bed, glancing at Fenris.  Aveline nodded, but gestured to the door.  
  
“I'll walk you down.”  
  
The three women filed out, and Isabela held her tongue until they reached the foyer.  
  
“Does he know?” Isabela asked in a low voice.  
  
Aveline shook her head.  
  
“She only just found out today, she didn't have the chance,” Aveline told her.  
  
“You saw his face, I'm fairly certain he knows now,” Merrill chimed in, staring back up the staircase. “Falon'Din, turn your gaze away from Hawke.”  
  
**  
  
“The blade sliced her womb,” Anders was saying when Aveline re-entered the room. “The damage was instantly catastrophic. No matter how quickly a potion got into her, there was no way to prevent this.”  
  
“Fen…?” Marian's voice was weak, her hand shaking in his. “Fen, I’m s-s-so sorry.” Her voice fell away in a sob, her body trembling.  
  
“Amata, amata, you need never beg my forgiveness,” Fenris told her, stroking a gentle palm over her hair, his low voice raw with emotion.  
  
Anders continued to send energy and healing into her, but he could not stop the bleeding entirely.  
  
“I'll make up several tinctures, Hawke. You've lost a lot of blood, and you'll lose more. Didn't I tell you this morning to stay out of trouble?” he teased sadly, letting the magic about his hands fade. Fenris withdrew his hand from Anders' shoulder, but met his eyes, and gave him a nod.  
  
“You know me, I can't resist making life complicated,” Marian gave a watery chuckle, and managed a smile. “Besides, it put me on Meredith’s shit list, and I thought that was worth achieving.”  
  
Fenris gave a low sound of disbelief, still absorbing the existence and loss of his babe. His. He knew what Marian had wanted to tell him that morning, and didn't know whether to curse the interruptions or not. Could he have fought today with the single-mindedness he needed if he'd known? Perhaps more so, as protecting Marian was always his goal. But the duel. He could never have suggested it.  He shook his head, dismissing his troubled thoughts, and glanced about the room.

Aveline and Anders stood to one side of the room talking, Orana moved about, collecting the bloodied towels and linens, and Bear had hopped onto the foot of the bed, lending his warmth to his mistress.  
  
Marian sighed, and pulled on Fenris' hand weakly. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and she motioned him closer with her free hand. He bent over, and she spoke in a tired voice.  
  
“I found out this morning. I hadn't been sleeping well since Mother died, and I went to Anders' for something to help me sleep. While I was waiting… I realized I was pregnant. Anders confirmed it, twins.” She paused, tears tracking down her cheeks. Fenris reached over and tenderly wiped away her tears with his thumb, caressing her cheek lightly when she leaned into his touch. “That was why I asked you to see me this morning, to tell you. I know you're not… that you don't want to be together, Fen. But you deserved to know. And I'm so sorry, I lost them... I don't even know if you ever wanted children, but I lost them…”  
  
She broke down weeping, and Fenris gently, carefully lifted her and slid further onto the bed to cradle her against his chest. He was speaking to her in a fluid string of Tevene, which she understood not at all. But his tone was tender, soothing, and gradually he felt the knots in her shoulders loosen as she cried.  
  
“Amata, shhhhh… you need to rest,” he glanced up, and Anders was there with a steaming mug. “Come, I'll help you sit up, you need to drink this.”  
  
Fenris took the mug from the healer, and helped Marian hold it steady while she drank. She grimaced at the taste, and looked up at Anders.  
  
“The flavour is my punishment, isn't it?” she asked, the barest hint of her usual mischief in her eyes.  
  
“Absolutely,” he replied in a bantering tone, handing over a small packet of waxed cloth.  “Also, it'll make this taste even better in comparison. Have you even eaten since you were at my clinic this morning?”  
  
Marian unwrapped the cloth, and smiled as she burst into fresh tears. She picked up the familiar ball of seeds and grains, and took a bite, alternating it with pulls from the mug.  
  
“Thank you, Anders.  Please, do give the recipe to Orana anyway. They'll be perfect those days I need to run out the door. And yes, I did eat. Aveline and Fenris can both attest to that.”  
  
“Very well, I'll be back tomorrow to check on you.” He turned to leave, tossing his satchel over his shoulder.  
  
“Mage,” Fenris called.  “Anders. Thank you for saving her.”  
  
Anders looked at him curiously, then shook his head.  
  
“Aveline told me what happened in the throne room. You saved her. If you hadn't gotten that sword out exactly as you did, getting the healing potions into her as you went, she'd have bled to death in front of the noble crowd. All I've done is patched her ribs, and lent her energy to heal herself.”  Anders headed for the door, then turned back. “And I couldn't have even done that much, if you hadn't given me use of your tattoos.”  
  
Fenris stared after the mage in surprise as he slipped through the door, then turned back to Marian, who dozed on his shoulder.  
  
“Festis bei umo canavarum, amata,” he murmured softly. She'd been wrapped in a burgundy velvet dressing gown, but he would never forget the wound from the Arishok's sword, so long as he lived. He brushed her hair tenderly back from her face, frowning slightly at the pallor. It would be some time before she regained her strength, even with the wounds healed. Hopefully this would be the end of the emergencies for a while.  
  
His gaze dropped to her abdomen, and he took a moment to try to absorb what had happened.  The last thing either of them had considered that night together was whether their union would bear fruit, but it most certainly had. He'd noticed her hesitancy earlier, speaking of not wishing to complicate things. He found it didn't.  It crystalized them.  
  
He leaned down, and pressed a gentle, loving kiss to the crown of her head.  
  
“I am yours, Mari.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tevene to common
> 
> Gravidum = pregnant  
> Festis bei umo canavarum = you will be the death of me


	4. Mourning, a visitor, and healing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the battle, Fenris settles into a gentle, domestic routine of caring for Marian. But when Anders arrives to check on her, he tells Marian something that has her withdrawing into herself. Her friends rally to try to comfort her over the next few months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, beta'd by the wonderful barbex!

A cough from the door pulled his head up, and Fenris flushed slightly at the look of amusement on Varric's face.   
  
“Sounds like I missed one hell of a party. You know I'll need every detail of that fight,” Varric pointed out, to which Fenris rolled his eyes.   
  
“Isabela, Aveline, and Merrill were all there. They can tell you as much. I'd prefer not to relive it.” Fenris kept his voice quiet, his shoulders tensing.    
  
Varric eyed him shrewdly for a minute, and then shrugged.   
  
“Your call, Broody.  But if you change your mind, and need a pint as well, you know where my office is.”   
  
“I don't know how your sense of smell hasn't atrophied, dwarf,” Fenris replied in amusement, “with that place as your office.”   
  
“Could be worse, my first place was on the docks, and we had a heat wave that summer.  Needless to say I set up my little arrangement at the Hanged Man very quickly.”   
  
Marian stirred on Fenris's shoulder, and opened her eyes, giving a wan smile to her best friend.   
  
“You missed the party, Varric. There I was, without my trusty dwarf.”   
  
“A thousand apologies, Your Championess,” he gave a courtly bow that somehow managed to be sarcastic.  “I was busy keeping Qunari and looters out of the alienage. So, single combat, huh? How you managed to end this mess without us losing someone, I'll never guess.”   
  
Marian tensed on Fenris' shoulder, and he tightened his arms about her.  Varric watched the two of them and sighed.   
  
“Well, shit. Who did we lose?” Varric asked softly.   
  
Marian fought the tears welling up, but they trickled down her cheeks nonetheless. Fenris gently pulled her closer, laying a protective hand over her stomach. The sound punched out of Varric was one of disbelief and dismay.   
  
“I am so sorry.” He shook his head, and sat on the edge of the bed. “There's nothing I can say to make that hurt less.  Any rules about a drink?”   
  
“Well, I do need to replace all that blood I lost on those beautiful tiles in the Keep,” Marian joked, wiping her face on her sleeve. Her eyes were red-rimmed, in sharp contrast to her extreme pallor.    
  
Varric pulled a flask from somewhere, and meeting Fenris' gaze, passed it to the elf first. Fenris threw back a mouthful, then passed it to Marian, who took a swig.    
  
“Ferelden whiskey? From…” she sniffed the mouth of the flask daintily.  “From Highever! I haven't had this in years.”   
  
She took another mouthful, and passed the flask back to Varric. They chatted softly, Varric teasing Hawke about her new title of Champion of Kirkwall. Eventually her eyes started to droop, and Varric quietly took his leave.   
  
Marian looked up at Fenris, his heartbreak matched in her blue eyes.   
  
“Stay? Please. I don't want to be alone.”    
  
“Very well. Allow me to remove my armour and wash up. I  _ will _ be back, Marian.”   
  
He returned a short while later, his hair damp, stripped to his leggings and a short, baggy sleep shirt begged from Bodahn. It was one of Sandal's, but even the slighter dwarf was incredibly broad.  He paused in the doorway, allowing Bear to take his measure before stepping closer to Marian's sleeping form. Bear nudged at his hand, and Fenris chuckled softly, scratching at the dog's ears, until the mabari's tail thumped hard against the mattress.   
  
Fenris slid under the covers next to Marian, and gathered her carefully to his chest.  A small whimper slipping past her lips as she stirred in her sleep. Her breathing slowed again, and she settled against him with a sigh.   
  
“Fen…” He glanced down, surprised, but she was still asleep.  “I'm so sorry, love.”   
  
Fenris felt his heart clench, the grief and fear of the evening giving way to a flicker of hope that she might one day forgive him for leaving.   
  
“Shhhh, rest, amata. I remain at your side.”

 

**

 

The following morning, Fenris woke suddenly, uncertain of his surroundings. He was warm, for one. His derelict estate was generally drafty; the incursion of demons and wraiths had done their share of damage. And Fenris had to acknowledge he hadn't exactly kept up with repairs.   
  
There was a warm body curled up against his side, and his eyes flew open as the previous day's events flooded his mind. He glanced down to check on Marian, who still slumbered, a frown of discomfort creasing her brow. He wiggled his arm out from underneath her, clenching and unclenching his fist to restore circulation to his tingling fingers. Marian whimpered in her sleep, and Fenris brushed a gentle hand through her hair.  
  
“Hush, amata. You're safe.”   
  
He slipped from the room quietly, noting as he pulled the door nearly shut that Bear had appropriated the warm spot where he'd been laying, and he chuckled as he descended the stairs. He headed for the kitchen, and found Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana breaking their fast while chatting quietly.  
  
“She's still asleep, but I think she'll wake soon. Orana, Anders ought to be here by midmorning to check on her, and if I'm unavailable, please ask him about something to dull her pain.  She won't ask.”  
  
“I will, Master Fenris. I remember when one of the other slaves lost a babe, a hot water bladder helped soothe the pain, at least a little. I could find something like that, I’m sure,” the shy blond elf barely lifted her gaze, twisting her fingers about each other.  
  
“Orana…” Fenris called her name, waiting til she glanced up at him. “Thank you, that is an excellent suggestion.”  The elven servant blushed at the praise, but nodded quickly. He turned to address Bodahn. “Might I enquire about my shirt? I feel I ought to be dressed properly before any visitors arrive. I've no wish to damage Marian's--" He flushed slightly, much to the amusement of his audience. “--Hawke's reputation.”  
  
Bodahn nodded in understanding and stood, wiping the crumbs of his breakfast from his beard.  
  
“It was in a state, so I asked Orana to wash it, along with messere Hawke's things. Orana,” the dwarf turn to the servant, “are Meserre Fenris' things laundered?”   
  
“Yes, but,” and her eyes flicked nervously from Bodahn to Fenris, “I had hoped to mend your shirt before returning it to you.”  
  
“No need, Orana,” he replied, shaking his head. “I can tend to my own mending. In fact, if there's more to be done, I'll take it. It will keep me occupied today.”  
  
“Oh, no,” the girl stammered, her eyes wide. “I couldn't possibly ask you to …” She faltered, unable to even vocalize her discomfort at such a suggestion.  
  
Fenris merely chuckled, drawing looks of surprise from the elf and the older dwarf.  Sandal simply gave a gummy grin, his wide blue eyes curious and happy.  
  
“I was a slave as well, Orana, and later I was on my own. I learned to mend my own things. I had not so many belongings I could spare any.”  
  
And so Fenris found himself sitting at Marian's desk with a basket of mending, his slender fingers making short work of the small tears in household clothes.  Sandal apparently had a tendency to singe the cuffs of his shirts. Fenris decided not to think about that too closely. Orana entered with a covered breakfast tray for Hawke, which aside from food, held not one but three mugs, as well as a carafe. One mug held the healer's tincture, but the other two held Antivan coffee, and Fenris' eyes lit up.  
  
He was halfway through his second mug of coffee, the rich, dark liquid sending a jolt of wakefulness through him, when the door opened, and Anders walked in. The mage froze when he saw him, but gathered his wits quickly and kept his tone light.  
  
“Ah, you're here again, I see.”  
  
 _We must still be under a truce_ , Fenris thought to himself, hiding a smirk behind another gulp of his coffee.  
  
The mage's gaze was assessing, and Fenris saw the small twitch of a frown when he realised the elf was wearing a tunic of dwarven make.  He opened his mouth to speak, when Marian stirred.  
  
“Fen?” Marian called sleepily, and Fenris turned to see her stretching in her sleep.  And the moment she realized he wasn't beside her. She moved to sit up, then groaned in pain, holding a hand to her abdomen.  
  
“Marian, I'm here,” he strode to her side, taking her hand and helping her sit upright, propping a second pillow behind her for support.  
  
She met his eyes, her lower lip trembling. She glanced at his shirt, still the one he'd slept in, and squeezed his hand in return.  
  
“You're here,” she murmured.  
  
Fenris gave her a slow smile.  
  
“I told you I would be.” He said in his low voice.  “And Anders said he'd be here as well. And here he is.”  
  
The mage stepped forward, giving Marian a smile as he approached. Fenris turned back to the desk, retrieving the healing tincture from the tray, and brought it to Marian. He was pleased to see that she could hold it unaided this morning, the rest and the previous night's healing having done much to restore her physically. She had a pensive frown upon her face, however, and Fenris stood next to the bed, uncertain how to comfort her, or if she even wanted comfort from him in the light of day.    
  
He'd suggested the duel. If he hadn't, perhaps she wouldn't have been injured in such fashion. Perhaps she wouldn't have lost the babes.  
  
Anders was speaking to Marian softly, asking her about the pain she was feeling, how she'd slept. Marian saw the mug in Fenris' hands, and gave him a tentative smile in return, but Fenris could feel the distance, that had been there for several months, returning. She turned her attention back to Anders, and Fenris felt the loss of her gaze.  
  
“Should I drink the tincture now, or wait until later?” she asked the blond healer, gesturing towards Fenris.  
  
“Now is fine; truly it should have been two hours ago,” he said calmly enough, but there was an edge to his voice that raised the hackles on Fenris' neck.  
  
“Perhaps that ought to have been included in the directions given, rather than stating when she woke up,” he suggested mildly, handing the mug to Marian. She nodded her thanks, then dropped her gaze to stare into the mug, not meeting his eyes or Anders'.  
  
“Marian, do you need me to stay?” Fenris asked, his gravelly voice steady, but if Marian had looked up, she would certainly have seen the uncertainty in his eyes.  
  
“I have things to discuss with her that may be better served by some privacy,” Anders announced, making it clear that he wanted to speak to his patient alone.  
  
“Marian? I'll go if you wish me to. I have to return the mending to Orana in any case.”  
  
She looked up at him finally, and he could see the flash of amusement in her eyes.  
  
“Why are you doing the mending, Fenris?” she asked, a thread of laughter in her voice.  
  
“It seemed only fair; she got the bloodstains out of my shirt, and I needed to mend it anyway. So I might as well do the rest of the mending. Something to occupy the hands but not the head.”  
  
“Go on then, I'll talk to you later.”  
  
He indicated the desk with a jerk of his chin, scooping up his own mug of coffee.  
  
“Do eat something, and there's more coffee in the carafe. It should still be hot.”  
  
Anders cleared his throat, and Fenris scooped up the basket of mended clothing, balancing it against his hip as he made for the door. He paused at the door, and glanced back as he shifted the basket out of the way. Marian looked like she was ready to hop out of bed to get the door for him. Anders was smirking as he watched Fenris try to open the door with both hands full.  Fenris met Marian's eyes with a small smile, and carefully balanced his mug on his head. He reached blindly and caught the doorknob on the first try. Pulling the door open, he hooked his bare foot around the bottom edge, then retrieved his mug and slipped through the door.  
  
As it closed behind him, he heard Marian chuckle softly, and smiled.  
  
He slipped into the bathing room to change into his own shirt, and carried the basket down to the laundry, just off the kitchen. There he found Orana, and she took the completed mending from him gratefully.  
  
“Thank you, Master Fenris, you didn't have to do this,” she said softly, ducking her head a little.  
  
“Orana, please. I’m no master of yours. Fenris will suffice,” he reminded her, uncomfortable with sharing a title with the man who had owned and tattooed him. He glanced about, and tossed the borrowed sleep shirt into a hamper waiting to be filled.  
  
“Is Mistress awake?” the girl asked, stepping back into the kitchen, and stirring the soup bubbling away on the cast iron stove. “Should I make a tray for her?”  
  
“Only just, so she hasn't had the breakfast you brought yet. Anders is here to check on her healing.”  
  
Orana turned and looked at him directly, her eyes full of sympathy. Fenris quirked an eyebrow in question, as the usually shy elven servant rarely looked him in the eye.  
  
“I'm sorry, Mas—” She cut herself off, and tried again. “--Fenris, about the babes.”  
  
He waved a hand at her, trying to deflect, but she continued.  
  
“They were yours, too.”   
  
Fenris folded himself onto the bench by the table, his head in his hands.  
  
“Yes. But I didn't deserve them. I was the one who prompted Marian to fight the Arishok alone, thinking to spare more bloodshed. This is my fault.”  
  
His guilt threatened to overwhelm him, then an angry voice came from the door.  
  
“You?! This _is_ your fault!” Anders snapped, his golden brown eyes dark with fury. “How could you suggest that the woman you claimed to love fight that monster, especially while pregnant with twins! Are you that much of a coward, why didn't you face him yourself, oh mighty warrior? And now here you are, crawling back after she left you, fawning over her, trying to get back in her good graces. Oh, you played the hero yesterday, so you really think it will change her mind about leaving you? She deserves better than you.”  
  
Fenris might have been carrying a large weight of guilt, but his eyes narrowed as he stood to face the mage.  
  
“The Arishok would have faced no one but her in single combat. She was the only one worthy, _basalit-an_. Anyone else challenging him would have been an insult, and start a massacre. It was either we all fight, and risk the civilians, with no guarantee the Qunari would stop before they'd slaughtered their way through the entire city, razing it to the ground, or Marian face him in single combat. Or, Marian could have let him take Isabela prisoner, but we both know that is not the woman she is.”  
  
Fenris stalked toward the mage, his eyes dark with anger and grief.  
  
“I wish I'd never suggested it. I must live with that. But you will not lessen _her_ sacrifice with your rantings. She chose. Now if you will excuse me…”  
  
He brushed past the seething blond, and calmly climbed the stairs. He knocked on Marian's door, and drew a deep breath to centre himself after the confrontation with Anders.  
  
“Come in, Fenris,” she replied, her voice rough.  
  
He entered and made his way to her side. When he'd left, the last thing he heard was her low, warm ripple of laughter.  Now her eyes were red-rimmed again, and she picked at the tray of food listlessly.  
  
“Amata, Marian, what can I do?” Fenris knelt beside her bed, uncertain whether to reach for her hand or not. He tentatively touched her arm, frowning at the tension he found.  “Will you tell me what Anders had to say?”  
  
She shook her head briefly, still staring blankly, her blue eyes clouded by pain.   
  
“Marian?” he called her name softly, and felt his heart clench when she finally turned to look at him, her eyes dull and nearly empty.  
  
“I need to be alone, Fenris. Please.”  
  
“Amata, are you certain? I would stay, if you would allow it.” Fenris' brows drew down in concern at hearing her voice so emotionless.  
  
“No, thank you. I… I would like to sleep, there's no need for you to stay.” She seemed to see him then, her eyes focusing on him for just a moment.  “Please, would you ask Orana to come up? I need to discuss a few matters with her.”  
  
Fenris heard the dismissal, and wanted to ignore it, wanted to stay and hold her tightly. But the mage's poisonous words crept into his mind again. This was his fault for suggesting the duel.  
  
“As you wish, Marian. I will leave you to rest, but I will return to check on you. Perhaps I could read to you?” He offered the last hesitantly, uncertain whether their friendship had been repaired sufficiently for a return to their old pastime. His hopes fell when she looked away from him, biting her lip and blinking rapidly. He stood slowly, his usual grace awkward and stumbling.  “I will send Orana up to you.”  
  


**

 

Marian's friends surrounded her in the slow weeks of healing, but despite their care and best efforts, she slowly withdrew into herself.

 

Fenris watched as each of their friends visited, trying to draw her out. He would read to her, halting and uncertain, but she no longer prompted him through his uncertain moments. Aveline tried to engage her in conversation about the guards, to no effect. Varric would bring cards, trying to cajole her into their usual banter, but she wouldn't play. 

 

Anders hovered, staring at her with a hopeful expression; each time he came to check on her healing, his solicitous manner seemed far beyond that of simply her healer and friend. He had also reverted to making cutting remarks about Fenris, which Marian ignored just as she ignored Varric's quips. Anders glared at Fenris every time they encountered each other in passing.  Fenris would simply meet his gaze with disdain, but refused to engage in another argument.

 

Merrill brought her flowers. Sebastian prayed for her. Isabela told ribald stories of her time on the sea.     
  
Bear watched her with sad eyes, and snuggled against her for warmth.   
  
Fenris watched. He saw her turn away from her friends, shut herself into her room. He agonized over how to help her, then struck upon a thought.   
  
**   
  
A week later, Fenris knocked on Marian's bedroom door. He waited a minute, listening to her shift about, but no answer came.  He knocked again, more forcefully.   
  
“What is it, Fenris?” she asked dully through the door. The pet name had disappeared with the dawn two days after the battle with the Arishok, and Fenris mourned its loss.  And yet she always knew when it was him at the door.   
  
“May I come in, Marian? You have a guest,” he replied softly, glancing over his shoulder to the woman behind him.   
  
“No, Fenris. I'm not seeing anyone.” Her tone was distant and final, and he shook his head.   
  
“Well, that's not acceptable,” muttered the dark-haired woman. She stepped past Fenris and kicked the door.  “Mari, you get your ass out of bed this instant, or I'll find a basin to pour over your head! I'll mix ground rashvine into your bath salts, the way Carver used to do to me, don't think I won't!”   
  
A crash came from within the room, followed by a thud and a blistering curse, and the door was wrenched open, revealing a stunned Marian, who was holding one foot as she hopped about, her hair lank and greasy, her nightshirt in disarray.   
  
“Bethy?” she stumbled forward, wincing with each limping step, and threw her arms around her baby sister. “How…? How is this even possible?”   
  
“Fenris,” Bethany replied, returning the embrace, and throwing him a grateful look. “He spoke to the First Enchanter, and to the Knight-Captain. They agreed these were extreme circumstances, and with the caveat of a Templar escort, I'm here for the afternoon and dinner.”    
  
Fenris gave them one of his slow, gentle smiles, and started to step back.   
  
“I will leave you to speak,” he said softly as he turned away. He stopped, his skin pebbling, when he felt  _ her _ hand on his arm. He looked back to meet Marian's blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears, but with a tremulous smile about her lips.   
  
“Fen…” she murmured softly.  “Thank you.”   
  
He slid his arm back to take her hand, and raised it gently to his lips, never breaking eye contact.   
  
“For you, amata, anything.”   
  
“You'll be back for dinner?” she asked in a rush, her cheeks flushing. His smile spread, the expression feeling unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.   
  
“As you wish.”  He trailed his knuckles gently down her jaw, then turned and headed down the hall.  He had just reached the stairs when he heard Bethany speak.   
  
“You have  _ got _ to tell me everything about you two, but let's get you a bath. I love you, dear sister, but you stink.”   
  
Fenris descended the stairs to the sound of Marian's laughter.  And if Bethany couldn't meet his eyes without giggling when he returned for dinner that evening, causing Marian to blush each time it happened, so be it.    
  
He accompanied Bethany when she returned to the tower, understanding Marian was mistrustful of the templars even now with permission to visit. Fenris waited with Bethany, and turned her over to Thrask's care, whom he knew Marian trusted.     
  
He returned to Marian, and hesitantly offered to read for her. The smile she gave him was a balm to months of worry. And when he bid her good night, and they stood and stared at each other with a thousand words unsaid, Marian stepped toward him and laid a gentle kiss on his cheek.   
  
She looked up at him through pitch-dark lashes, still so very close. Fenris searched her eyes, seeing the warring emotions. Shame. Loss. Desire. Fear. Affection. He cupped her cheek tenderly in one callused hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.   
  
“Goodnight, my amata. I will see you in the morning.” He turned to go, when she called after him.   
  
“Fenris!”    
  
He half turned to her, one dark brow raised in question, and a soft look in his eyes.     
  
“I… that is… you still haven't told me what that word means. Are you ever going to?”   
  
He smiled, and felt a rush of affection as her cheeks reddened in the low evening light, even as she raised a hand to try to hide her blush.   
  
“I most certainly will.”


	5. Friends and Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke slowly reconnects with her friends, and she and Fenris have a long overdue talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter has game dialogue. Technically it happens in act 3 in the game, I'm dropping it here in the time between acts 2 & 3 because I feel like it.
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing Barbex. :)

The next day when Varric visited, he found Marian in the library, curled up with a book.  
  
“So, it was time for a change of scenery?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe with bottle of Ferelden whiskey in one hand.   
  
She looked up from her book, and offered a small, almost shy smile.   
  
“Hullo Varric. I made a promise that I'd get out of my room, and eventually the house. I thought this a fine first step. Though it's sadly lacking in novels by a certain illustrious author. I'm hoping to convince him to part with a few copies.”   
  
“Is that so? Well, you should tell me all about this author who has you so enamored with his works. Over a friendly game of cards?”   
  
She blanched slightly.   
  
“Varric, I've had devastating injuries, a terrible loss, and been an ass to my friends for months. Is that _really_ the way to welcome me back to the realm of the living? By taking my hard-won coin?”   
  
“You wound me, Hawke,” he exclaimed, holding one hand to his chest dramatically. “We’ll go easy the first few rounds.”   
  
**   
  
Marian nearly purred at the pile of coins in front of her, and grinned at Varric.   
  
“Poor Varric, with his soft spot for a damsel in distress.”   
  
Varric chuckled and gave a shrug.   
  
“To see that smile and glint in your eye again, I'm glad to part with the coin. Now unfortunately I have an appointment with the Merchant Guild. Speaking of someone stealing my coin,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll be by tomorrow, and we'll see if I can win some of my money back.”   
  
Marian grinned, and returned to her book, missing his broad grin as he left.  A while later, Orana appeared with a tray of food for her lunch.   
  
“I thought you might want to stay here,” she commented, her light, hesitant tone barely disturbing the quiet of the library. “The windows make it so much brighter than the kitchen. I've made some sandwiches with yesterday's roast, and I know you like that cheese we get from Antiva, and there were fresh berries in the market today.  I'm making a pie for after dinner, but there was enough to spare. The healer said you needed to eat more, to put on the weight you've lost. And Master Fenris has been worried for you.”   
  
Marian smiled at the gentle elven girl, and nodded.   
  
“You're right, he has.  Everyone has been, but… it's been a difficult time. Thank you, Orana, you've been a great help. Your papa would be proud of you. ”   
  
“He would be happy for me, not a slave anymore, and with a kind mistress. It's nice not to be scared,” the girl said softly, and Marian gave a gentle smile.   
  
“I can understand that. And thank you for bringing me lunch. You've certainly come a long way from just being able to make your papa's soup.”   
  
“It was your mama who showed me.  She knew so many recipes, and was always patient with me.”   
  
Marian tensed for a moment, then sighed.   
  
“Yes, she did love to cook. I'm afraid I had no patience for it. My brother Carver, he was actually the best of us at it, though Bethany is certainly more skilled than I, as well.”   
  
Marian scooped up the sandwich and bit into it, giving a happy sigh at the burst of flavours.   
  
“It's perfect, thank you, Orana.”   
  
The elven girl took that as her dismissal, and quietly left the library. A short while later, Marian set aside her empty tray with a happily sated groan, and curled up in the oversized chair to read more of her book.   
  
In a few short minutes, she was asleep.   
  
**   
  
Perhaps an hour later, she roused blearily to the sight of Isabela and Merrill standing over her, both grinning at her.   
  
“You've drooled on yourself, Hawke, did you need a handkerchief?” Merrill asked guilelessly as Isabela chuckled.   
  
“Come on, kitten, let's find Orana and get a vase for those flowers you brought, then we can come back in here once Hawke is awake.” The two wandered out, arm in arm, Merrill smiling cheerfully, Isabela… a little less haunted than the last few times she'd visited.   
  
_Perhaps I'm not the only one who needed time to heal,_ Marian mused.   
  
When they came back, Isabela shared news of the Hanged Man and the repairs in Lowtown and the Docks, while Merrill talked of the alienage and the rumours merchants were bringing in. It was amazing what they would tell her, her manner was so disarming.   
  
Marian asked after their favourite serving girl at the Hanged Man, Norah; luckily she'd survived. The alienage had been relatively untouched. Varric had stayed to dissuade the Qunari bent on attacking, but not many tried. Mostly it had been looters trying to get in, though what they thought they'd find in the impoverished quarter, Marian couldn't fathom.   
  
The three women chatted for a couple hours, catching up on two months of gossip. When Merrill wandered off to use the bathing room, Isabela turned to Marian, her face determined.   
  
“I'm glad you seem to be turning things around, Hawke. Can I ask what did it?”   
  
“Bethany made me promise to take care of myself.” Marian smiled fondly, shaking her head over her sister's instructions.   
  
“That must have been quite the letter, if you've taken it to heart so strongly,” Isabela prodded, a glint in her dark eyes.  Marian eyed her suspiciously, then shrugged.   
  
“No letter would have done it.  A visit, an offer to pour a basin over me still in my bed, threats of bodily harm if I didn't bathe, and then she sat with me drinking wine while I did so. We talked all afternoon, cried over Mother, and Carver…. We'd never had the chance to mourn him, and with no funeral for Mother, not as she was, Bethany couldn't get away from the Circle.  And I told her about the duel with the Arishok. And…. And my twins. Izzy, I'd only just learned that day, I didn't have time to decide how I felt, or even--" she cut herself off, not wanting to spark further guilt in her friend, but Isabela caught on nonetheless.   
  
“You were trying to tell Fenris when I barged in, weren't you?  And let me guess, Big Girl knew? No wonder she looked ready to keelhaul me. Not that she doesn't usually look at me like that anyway.”  Isabela's shoulders hunched as though against a blow as she absorbed that knowledge, then she straightened. “Wait, did you tell him later? No, you couldn't have, he'd never have suggested that duel if he'd known.”   
  
“Just as well.  Five of us, against the Arishok and his personal warriors? One on one was a safer bet.” Marian's voice was clipped, emotionless.   
  
Isabela gave her a shrewd look, but Merrill returned at that moment and they changed the subject to a lighter topic. Eventually they departed, and Marian begged off a full dinner, simply having a mug of soup with a freshly baked roll next to the fire.   
  
**

 

Anders stopped by as she ate, surprised to see her in the library rather than isolated in her room, but he recovered quickly, flashing her his charming, boyish smile.   
  
“It's good to see you up and about, Marian. I was worried,” he told her, his golden brown eyes warm.   
  
“Thanks, Anders,” she replied with a small smile. “My wounds don't trouble me any longer, but the loss of my babes, that… that will take more time.”   
  
He nodded in understanding, but his next words made her frown, uncertain she'd heard him correctly.   
  
“At least Fenris finally learned that you meant it when you told him to leave,” he said matter-of-factly.   
  
“What are you talking about, Anders?” she asked, puzzled. “Not that it's any of your concern, but he left, not the other way around.”   
  
“Really?” Anders exclaimed, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “More the fool he, to use you and cast you aside. Marian, you have to know I would never betray you like that.  And then to push you into that duel when you were pregnant, was he trying to avoid responsibility I wonder? Only to play the hero once the damage was done…”   
  
Anders' voice trailed off at the end, as though he were speaking to himself. Unfortunately for the mage, Hawke heard him quite well.   
  
“ _WHAT?!_ Anders, I have had enough!” she snarled. “My relationship with Fenris has never been your concern, but allow me to correct a few misconceptions. I asked him to stay, so he certainly did not use me. He suggested the duel as a solution to save countless lives. He also had no idea I was pregnant, I'd had no chance to tell him. There was no ducking of responsibility.  He has been caring for me every day since then, he brought Bethany to me when I refused to leave my chambers, he has watched over me every single day, without fail.   
  
“There was no ‘playing hero', you yourself told him I'd have died in the throne room without his actions. He has certainly never betrayed me! By what right do you say such things?”   
  
“Marian, I love you,” Anders told her desperately, taking her hand in his. “Please, let me court you the way you deserve, you deserve better than that--"   
  
“Don't finish that sentence, Anders,” Hawke interrupted sharply. “Anders, I've counted on you as a friend for years. Please, this must end. I’ve told you again and again that there cannot, will not be anything between us.”   
  
He looked at her with such longing and hurt, and she closed her eyes with a tired sigh to escape his gaze for a moment.   
  
“Is it because I'm a mage?” he asked softly, his voice cracking slightly.   
  
“What? Of course not, you git!” she gave him a fond, exasperated look.  “My father was a mage, my sister is a mage, how could I possibly hold that against you?  Anders, honestly, I think of you as a brother. You remind me of Carver in a lot of ways.” Her smile turned sad. “You'd have liked him, I think.”   
  
Anders sighed, and pressed her hand once before letting go slowly, and she knew he'd finally accepted her feelings.   
  
“One more thing, Anders. Stop belittling Fenris in my presence. Feel how you like about him, but I will not hear your insults against a good man.”   
  
“A good--" he started furiously, then bit his tongue at her expression. “Fine. You won't hear me on that topic, on your head be it.”   
  
“Maker's bloody britches, Anders! He doesn't like mages. He doesn't trust you. He was tortured and had his life ripped apart by mages in Tevinter, and you've never hidden your dislike for him. Since coming to Kirkwall, how many blood mages have we faced? And yet he still cooperates, works with me when my sister is a mage, with you and with Merrill.  He allowed you to use the lyrium embedded in his very skin to heal me. Which, by the way, was excruciatingly painful for him. You honestly know nothing of him!”   
  
Anders jumped out of his seat, and paced in front of the fireplace, fuming.   
  
“And what does he know of me?!” he demanded, shouting in his agitation.   
  
“He knows of Justice,” she shrugged, knowing that explained it all, if not to his satisfaction.   
  
“And yet again I am condemned for saving a friend!” he spat.   
  
“Anders!” she snapped, irritated at his stubbornness.  “He hasn't bloody condemned you! You don't see him dragging you off to the Gallows, or leading the Templars to your clinic. He has never raised a hand to you. He has called you an abomination, I know, and I've asked him to stop that, as I've asked you to stop insulting him. Thus far one of you has done as I asked.”   
  
She stopped, taking a deep breath, knowing her next words might cost her his friendship.   
  
“And he was there in the tunnels under the Gallows. He watched Justice kill that young mage girl. You couldn't stop him, lost inside. This is why he doesn't trust you.”   
  
Anders froze as though she'd struck him. He stood breathing heavily, his fists clenching and unclenching, faint wisps of blue swirling about him.   
  
“And you?” he asked softly, as though a harsh word would fracture his self control.   
  
She stood and placed a hand on his shoulder without hesitation.   
  
“I trust you, Anders.”   
  
He smiled at her then. It was strained about the edges, but his hands loosened, and his magic no longer circled them.   
  
“Thank you, Marian. Now, I really ought to be going. Maker's ass, I've left Rosalie alone long enough for one evening.”   
  
“Good night, Anders,” Hawke waved as he left.     
  
She stood before the fire, staring blindly for several long minutes, then fetched a bottle of wine.   
  
_I trust Anders,_ she thought to herself. _I don't trust Justice at all. And I don't know if they're separate any longer_ .   
  


 

**

  


Fenris arrived a few hours later to check on her, as was his wont if he hadn't been there for the meal.  Orana met him in the foyer, wringing her hands and with a small worried frown creasing her brow.  
  
“Master Fenris, she fought with the healer,” she told him urgently when he was barely through the door. “She shouted, I've never heard her do that. He was upset when he left, too. And she wouldn't eat the berry pie I made for dessert. She just stayed in the library drinking wine, and she's asleep by the fire now. When I went in to fetch the dishes, she seemed so sad."   


He found her fast asleep in the chair with an empty bottle of wine next to Bear at her feet.  The mabari snorted and huffed at Fenris, before dropping his jaw in a drooling doggie grin.  
  
“I agree, let's get her to bed,” Fenris said quietly, as always treating the large wardog as though he could understand every word. Bear stood, shaking himself with a great flapping of his ears, and moved aside so Fenris could reach his mistress.   
  
Fenris bent and carefully scooped Marian into his arms, cradling her head on his shoulder. She murmured drowsily, and snuggled closer against his neck, but didn't wake. Fenris eyed the empty wine bottle as he straightened, and sighed. He carried her out of the library to the great room, Bear following at his heels. Bodahn raised an eyebrow at him, but smiled behind his beard, pleased to see Mistress Hawke out of her room for a change.   
  
Fenris caught Orana's attention and beckoned the servant with a jerk of his chin. He effortlessly carried Marian up to her chamber, where he found the bed made with clean linens, the room dusted and aired, and the book he'd most recently been reading to her in his halting, unpracticed way, sitting on the desk as though waiting.  Orana set a pitcher of water and a goblet on the desk, then pulled back the blankets on the bed. Fenris carefully laid a sleeping Marian on the fresh linens, then tucked a blanket over her. Greatly daring, he brushed his fingers down her jaw. She smiled softly in her sleep, and turned toward his touch.   
  
“Good night, amata,” he murmured, then flushed as he heard Orana’s small sound of surprise. _Caught_ . “I would be much obliged if you would not translate that for her. I… I would rather be the one to tell her, when she is ready to hear it.”   
  
He turned and looked at her, his face warm with an embarrassed flush that he could feel to the tips of his ears. Orana was smiling, and he breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
“I won't say a word, Master Fenris.”   
  
**

 

 _Two months later..._   
  
Marian's heart slowly healed, through the scars it bore would last a lifetime. In that it matched her body. She stood nude before her mother's dressing table, it having the largest mirror in the estate. That scar, falling from a tree and breaking her arm as a child, while her father was away and so had to be set and bound. This other one, a gash she'd received at Ostagar, luckily from an untainted blade. One on her palm, catching herself against a jagged piece of rock as she ran and stumbled to her mother's side, kneeling next to Carver's still warm corpse. One at the outside edge of her eyebrow, where a stone shard had caught her when the rock wraith in the Deep Roads shattered.   
  
The still red scar of the wound that had nearly killed her, four months past. That had ended the lives of her babes the day she learned of their existence. She traced the vertical scar lightly, her other hand unconsciously doing the same to its mate upon her lower back.   
  
Fenris had seen all of her older scars. He'd traced each one she'd had, with gentle hands and gentler lips, asking how they'd happened.  He'd chuckled with her at those earned by youthful folly (the one showing silver along a finger, teaching herself to juggle with kitchen knives), and wiped her tears from her face when she pointed out a jagged white line on one arm where she'd fallen against an earthenware pitcher when the news reached her that her father had died.   
  
They had been circling each other in ever smaller spirals since he'd brought Bethany to visit her. Looking back, he had saved her life again. He came to see her daily, but since that very first night when he had held her while she slept, both of them silently mourning what might have been, he waited.     
  
She had pushed him away with her grief and pain, but he had still come to her, for two months, while she rarely opened her bedroom door.     
  
Then he brought Bethy to her. And her sister had known exactly the words to use to irritate her back to living again. And to remember that her baby sister still needed her.  She wished they could have another visit, but Knight-Commander Meredith's paranoia was growing by the day, and Marian didn't fancy another visit to her deathbed to see her sister.   
  
As Bethy left after dinner with Fenris and her Templar escort, she'd quickly leaned in and murmured to Marian to remember that she wasn't alone, that she was loved.  Marian had given a tremulous smile, and reminded her that they might not see each other for years after this.   
  
_Who says I was talking about me, you thick-headed nug?_ Bethany had whispered, her voice full of laughter. Marian's eyes had flown to Fenris, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she found him watching them, a soft look in his moss green eyes.   
  
And yet, he did nothing.  He had left, Marian had no wish to chase after him if she weren't wanted. But the way he looked at her, said her name.  The way he brushed her hair from her eyes so tenderly. The way he had kissed her forehead, the way his lips had lingered just a touch too long.   
  
The way he called her _amata_ , though he still hadn't told her what it meant.  She knew she could find out, easily enough. But she wanted to hear it from him.   
  
_Doesn't he know I'm waiting for him to say something? He left, how can I throw myself into his arms again without knowing if he'll catch me?_   
  
She froze, her hands stilling in their exploration of her scars.   
  
_Have I made it clear he's welcome? He left, but does he know I still want him?_ Another thought struck her, something Isabela had said two months gone. _Shit. Does he think I blame him because he suggested the duel?_   
  
“Maker's balls!” she muttered aloud, running her hands through her hair and tugging on it lightly in frustration. “I need to talk to him.”   
  
**   
  
Fenris arrived that evening to visit, and Marian led him to the kitchen.  Other than her own chamber, it was smaller than any of the other rooms in the estate, and the soothing warmth and comforting food smells set Marian at ease.  She held up a bottle of Nevarran red wine, cocking an eyebrow at him, and poured for them both when he nodded.   
  
“Fen, if you don't mind, I wanted to talk to you about… well, about the babes, and what happened.  We haven't spoken of it, but I feel we should.”   
  
Fenris nodded, meeting her eyes solemnly.   
  
“I didn't want to press you to talk before you were ready,” he told her softly, his voice a low rasp.   
  
“Alright. You know I'd only found out that morning, and that Anders had confirmed I was carrying twins. I wanted to tell you.  I didn't know what to do about the pregnancy yet, but knew I'd decide nothing without telling you first. I… I think if I'd had time, I'd have been happy about it.  But we had just the one night together. All I knew was you deserved to know.” She faltered, looking at him, and drew in a sharp breath at the emotions flying across his face. Sadness, longing, shame. Fear. Such pain. And finally, settling into determination.   
  
“I deserved…? Marian, we've never spoken of what happened between us six months ago,” he hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words.   
  
“You didn't want to talk about it,” Marian replied softly, trying to maintain an even countenance despite the ache in her heart, the sting of that rejection mingling with the other wounds her life had doled out recently.   
  
“I felt like a fool,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. “I thought it better if you hated me, I deserved no less.” He looked at her then, his green eyes dark with emotion. “But it isn't better.” He slid around the table, and sat on the bench next to her, turned entirely to face her as he spoke. “That night… I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now.”   
  
She reached for his hand, brushing his knuckles lightly as she answered.   
  
“I need to know why you left, Fen.”   
  
“I've thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain… the memories it brought up.” He looked away as he confessed, “I was a coward.” He drew a deep breath, and reached for her, cupping her cheek, his thumb smoothing over her skin in a gentle caress. “If I could go back I would stay, tell you how I felt.”   
  
“What would you have said?” she asked softly, leaning into his palm, her eyes sliding shut for a moment, her heart in her mouth.   
  
“Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you,” he murmured, his deep voice gone husky with emotion.   
  
“I understand, Fenris. I forgave you a long time ago.”   
  
He breathed a sigh of relief, and pressed his forehead to hers, his hands trembling as he slid his fingers into her sable hair.   
  
“If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.”   
  
He bent slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away, but she turned her face up to meet his lips with her own, a light, tremulous thing that seared her to the core. When he pulled back and smiled down at her, she gave a hiccuping laugh, fighting tears. They had a hard road ahead of them, she knew. But at least they were travelling it together.   
  
They spoke long into the night, of their grief at the loss of their babes. Fenris told her that he wanted a family one day, and she tensed.   
  
“What is it, amata?” he asked gently, pulling her close in a warm embrace.   
  
“I can't.” The words stumbled from her mouth, sharp and final.   
  
“I understand, amata,” Fenris nodded. “After what you've been through I can understand why you wouldn't want children. It's alright. I want _you_ . Anything else, it doesn't matter.”   
  
“Fen, it isn't that,” she held up a hand to forestall him, her voice breaking. “I want a family, I want children. But the wound was too severe. My womb was damaged, and Anders told me I will probably never be able to carry a babe to term. I'm so… so sorry, Fen. They were yours, and I went into that duel knowing _I_ might not survive, but then I lost them…”   
  
Fenris gathered the weeping woman in his arms, pulling her across onto his lap, where she curled into him, her sobs shaking them both. He rocked her back and forth like a child, laying gentle kisses to her hair, stroking her back in slow circles.   
  
And if a few tears fell into her hair, neither of them commented on it.   
  
Finally, drained, Marian looked up at him, her eyes reddened and sore.  Fenris passed her a handkerchief, and she dabbed at her eyes delicately before wiping her face. She reached down and scooped up Fenris' wine glass, talking a large swallow.   
  
“What, it was closer!” she defended the theft of his wine when he gave her a look of amusement. He reached over and claimed her glass, glancing down at it.   
  
“I don't mind, amata, this one has more left,” he teased.   
  
“And there is that word again,” she huffed grumpily. “Are you ever going to tell me what it means?”   
  
Fenris gave her a slow, crooked smile, his eyes full of some emotion she dared not to name.  He gently turned her face toward him and kissed her tenderly. She tasted the wine on his lips, and she gave a little gasp when his tongue flicked against the seam of her lips. She opened for him, and his hands on her back pulled her closer. He ended the kiss carefully, then kissed his way across her temple, down her jaw. He kissed her neck once as she tilted her head back for him, then he moved to whisper in her ear.   
  
“Amata,” he breathed, his gravelly voice rasping. “Beloved.”   
  
Marian froze in his arms in disbelief. He'd been declaring his love for her for the last four months. She pulled away slightly, looking up into his eyes, her heart pounding.   
  
“Fen…” she whispered. “Fen, my love, I've missed you so.”   
  
He gave a low groan and pulled her tightly against his chest, burying his face against her neck as he shook, overwhelmed with emotion at having her in his arms again. Then her hands were in his hair, the white strands as silky as she remembered, and she pulled him to her, covering his face with feather-light kisses. He sat under the onslaught for a moment, then captured her lips in a passionate kiss, their teeth clacking with their urgency.  Her hands fisted in his hair, and he gave a low growl in response, his arms tightening about her, still cradled in his arms. The kiss ended with a gasp, only when their need for air finally overcame their need for each other. Marian dropped another kiss against the corner of Fenris' mouth.   
  
“Fen…” She kissed his cheek. Then back to his lips, and nipped sharply on the lower one, pulling a guttural moan from him. “Fen, stay. Stay with me.”   
  
“You wish me to stay the night?” he asked roughly, his pupils swallowing the green of his eyes as they roved over her face.   
  
“I wish you to stay for always, but for the night will do, for now.” She spoke seriously, but her lips curved in a mischievous smile to tease her lover.   
  
“Marian, my Marian… I am yours.” He stood as he spoke, and carrying her easily, he climbed the stairs to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	6. Do You Want This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian and Fenris take their chance to reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to everyone who has been reading my little soap opera. I hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing!
> 
> As ever, beta'd by barbex, and I'm so grateful for her help. :D

Fenris set her gently on the bed, grateful beyond measure to have a new memory of placing her there, as the time he thought she might not survive the night, was still far too fresh in his mind.   
  
Fenris turned and snapped his fingers for Bear, and indicated to the dog he should leave.   
  
“Go cuddle up to Sandal or Orana tonight. There's a good boy.” Fenris ruffled his ears as he passed, and the mabari snorted and wuffed at him.  When he turned back to the bed after ensuring the door was properly latched, he found Marian sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed, grinning at him. “What?”   
  
“You speak to him as though you believe he understands you,” she commented lightly, still smiling up at him.   
  
“Of course I believe it, he  _ does _ understand me.” Fenris frowned slightly in puzzlement, and Marian gave a delighted peal of laughter.   
  
“I know that, love. But so many people see his size and assume he's as intelligent as a rock. It makes me happy to see you speaking to him, that's all.”   
  
“Well, I am glad that I'm able to do such a small thing that pleases you.” He stalked closer, and Marian felt her heartrate accelerate as he neared.   
  
He may have been named Little Wolf by his former Master, but as he climbed onto the bed and crawled toward her, all she could see was the elegant grace of a cat.   
  
_ I wonder if I can make him purr? _ she thought to herself, biting back a nervous giggle. He crawled up the bed, coming to a stop with his hands on either side of her thighs, looking down at her as she sat motionless on her bed.   
  
“Amata.  _ Marian _ ,” he said her name like a prayer to the Maker, the forest green of his eyes swallowed by pupil. The firelight glinted on his tattoos, and Marian was left breathless at his beauty.   
  
“Fen, my Fenris,” she whispered, tilting her chin up in invitation. He bent and kissed her gently, the barest of touches.   
  
“Marian, do you want this?” When she would have spoken, he laid gentle fingertips against her lips.  “Truly. We need not rush into this, if you have any reservations whatsoever. I will be here tomorrow--" he bent and kissed her forehead “—and tomorrow's tomorrow--" he trailed kisses down her jaw “—and all the tomorrows after that.”   
  
Marian's breath was coming in short little gasps as he laid a path of kisses over her skin, pulling his fingertips away to claim her lips with his own. The kiss started slowly, tentatively, as they breathed each other in. Marian felt his tongue gently touching the seam of her lips, and opened at the silent request. He teased at her, his tongue slipping between her lips one second then gone again, his lips catching her lower one and tugging just a moment as they parted to breathe. His next kiss was light and playful, then slow and sweet.    
  
Marian reached up, fisted her hands in the front of his tunic, and pulled him down to her. His low chuckle rumbled down her spine, raising the hair on her arms as she slotted her mouth to his, plunging her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his.  She nipped at his lip, pulling a low rumble from his chest, and she nearly laughed, her smile pulling them apart as he raised an amused eyebrow in question.   
  
“You purr,” she told him with a grin. He shook his head with a laugh, and leaned in for another kiss. She laced her fingers at the back of his neck, and pulled him down as she laid back on the bed. He straddled one of her thighs, and kissed her again, but kept his body lifted from hers. When they parted again, he nuzzled at her cheek, his voice huskier than it had been a few moments before.   
  
“You didn't answer, amata. Do you want this, like this, tonight?”   
  
She let out a rippling laugh, stroking her hands down his back, savoring the feel of him in her arms again.   
  
“You do know that kissing me like that is not exactly fair, if you wanted a well thought out answer?” she teased, and he laughed along with her. “But yes, Fen, I want you tonight.  And tomorrow. And tomorrow's tomorrow,” she said softly, pulling him down for another kiss, murmuring against his lips, “and all the tomorrows after that.”   
  
He melted against her, his body settling over her as a warm, comforting weight. Her hands roamed freely over his back and she kissed him frantically, then gasped his name as he pulled back to kiss and nibble across her throat.   
  
She pulled at the linen shirt he wore, and he pushed himself up on one arm to haul the offending clothing over his head, tossing it to the floor. Marian trailed her fingers over his bronze skin, avoiding the tattoos as she knew they were sensitive, and not in a pleasant way.   
  
He shifted to lay alongside her, with one leg still thrown over one of hers. He gently tugged at the sash holding her jacket closed, and reached up to her collarbone to slide his fingers under the fabric. He pushed the jacket slowly from her shoulder, gazing at every inch of skin revealed like a man starved.     
  
Marian was running her fingers through his hair, trembling as he removed her jacket. She raised herself to her elbows to slide it off, and it joined his shirt on the floor. He drank in the sight of her in her camisole, the light from the fireplace casting shadows at hip and breast, bathing her in a golden glow.   
  
She pressed a palm to his chest as she kissed him again, pushing him back slightly as she sat up. Their fingers met at the hem of her camisole, and they shared a moment of breathless laughter, then he was pulling the shift from her. He groaned at the sight of her bare before him, closing his eyes for a moment, and took a shuddering breath. When he kissed her then, there was an edge of desperation to it, and she responded with a low moan, clutching him to her.   
  
He pulled back, panting, and laced their fingers together before slowly kissing his way down her sternum. She gave a pleased sound, and melted back against the pillows. He slowly kissed down the small curve of her belly, where the hollow places where she'd lost too much weight were finally filling out as she healed.  She gave a small tug to his hair, grinning as he growled at her mock-threateningly, but she knew he enjoyed that slightest touch of pain. She let go of his hair, and with a smile of pure mischief, she reached for him again. With a touch so light is might as well have been a whisper, she traced a fingertip from his earlobe up to the point of his ear, pulling a punched out moan from his throat as he shuddered against her.   
  
“Now  _ that _ is not fair,” he scolded, his cheeks flushed with arousal, his hand tightening on her hip.   
  
“Not my fault you fell for a human,” she teased, then gasped as his tongue slid over her skin, followed lightly by his teeth. “Fen, not fair!”   
  
His laughter rolled over her, and he continued to kiss his way down to her left hip. He nipped at the skin, then slowly moved across her abdomen toward the other.   
  
Marian was fighting the urge to squirm underneath him, his lips driving her to distraction, when she felt him freeze. She looked down at him, but he wasn't looking at her face. His fingertips hovered over her newest scar starting just above her pelvis, a handspan in length, and she could see his hand was trembling.  She called his name softly, stroking her fingers down his jaw, and when he looked up at her, her heart clenched. His green eyes were dark with pain, not arousal, now, and she watched as a few tears snaked their way down his cheeks to drop to her skin. Of course, he hadn't seen the scar since it had been a fresh wound.   
  
“Fen, love. It's alright. I'm alright. I'm still here.” Using the hand that still clasped his, she pulled him up into her arms, holding him as he shook, his face pressed to the curve of her neck. “You saved me. I'm here because of you, my love. Over and over, you've saved me.”   
  
“But I was so close to losing you,” she heard, his lips against her pulse, but she felt no stirring at the touch, not now.   
  
She stroked her fingers through his hair, her goal to soothe rather than tease. He was laying fully against her, but she knew that nothing further was happening that night, not as shaken as he was now. She wrapped an arm about his back, and held him close. When his breathing seemed to settle, she turned her head and laid a gentle kiss against his temple. He pulled back to look at her, and she cupped his face in hands.   
  
“You didn't lose me, Fenris. You won't.”    
  
He took a shuddering breath, and dropped his forehead to hers, then pressed their lips together in a light, nearly chaste kiss. He sat up, but when she would have followed, he pressed her down again. He folded his legs under him as he sat at her side, and he stared at the scar, still red and raised. He glanced at her briefly for permission, and she nodded. His fingers trembled as he touched the scar, but when she didn't flinch, he grew bolder.    
  
“I never want to see such a thing again, amata.” He spoke quietly, calmly, but she knew that this was the same type of calm he'd shown while watching her duel. A mask, nothing more. “I had never before regretted not having Anders with us. To hope that potions would suffice, never knowing if they'd lost their potency. And to have you collapse in the hall, I knew something else was wrong, but never imagined…”   
  
“I'm sorry for that, love, I wish I'd had a chance to tell you.” She smiled then, and reached down to tap on his knee to get him to look at her. He saw her expression, and gave a small smile of his own, waiting for her to continue.  “I need a favour though, Fen.”   
  
“Anything in my power to give, Marian,” he promised solemnly.   
  
“Please, never mention Anders' name again while we're half-naked in bed. Please.”  Fenris stared at her a moment, then burst out laughing. He smiled at her again, freely, and she felt her heart lighten. Bending to lay a gentle kiss on the scar, he straightened, and started to move up the bed.   
  
“Wait, Fen. Look at the other now, please. Matching is so very important for the nobility, so it's only fair to have a second scar.” She spoke lightly, but she watched his shoulders tense again.  When he nodded, she carefully rolled over, shifting about on the bed so she stayed close to him. She heard his breath catch, and she reached down to pat his knee.   
  
“This one is worse,” he noted softly, tracing the scar low on her back with gentle fingers. She heard him swallow harshly.  “The blade must have shifted when we withdrew it. I tried to hold you still…”   
  
Marian heard the guilt in his voice and sat up.  She crawled right into his lap and wrapped her arms and legs about him, clinging to him. Her breasts pushed up obscenely, pressed against his sleekly muscled chest, and the casual skirt she wore at home rode up indecently.  She didn't care. All she cared about was the man in her arms and getting him to understand it wasn't his fault.   
  
“Who else could have held me as you did?” she asked bluntly. “Even unconscious, I would have felt that and moved to escape the pain. For all you know I did that to myself dragging myself down that blasted blade to stab him through the eye. I don't want you to blame yourself, Fen. I certainly don’t blame you!”   
  
“I know, Marian, but--"    
  
She cut him off. 

 

“No buts. You saved me. Avi, Merrill, and Izzy all say so. They say they helped  _ you _ to save me. Not that the four of you saved me. They helped. You accomplished it.”   
  
Fenris pulled back to stare at her blankly.    
  
“That's preposterous! Isabela and Aveline removed the sword, Merrill got the healing potions into you. They had a more active part than I, by far!”   
  
She eyed him shrewdly.   
  
“And who led them?  Who told them what to do, how to move, when to give me the potions? And did it all while holding me rock steady?”   
  
A faint flush coloured his cheeks, reminding her he was generally unused to praise. Well, she would take care of that. In the meantime…   
  
“Come, Fen. Come to bed with me.”   
  
He startled slightly, seeming to suddenly notice their position, his arms and lap quite full with Champion of Kirkwall.  She grinned at him teasingly, and shifted off his legs to stand beside the bed.   
  
“I saw that look. Your virtue is intact for tonight, love.”   
  
He gave a low chuckle, and rose from the bed, dousing candles about the room.  When he turned to the fireplace to bank it for the night, Marian stopped him.   
  
“Leave it, Fen. It'll burn down, and it leaves us with light to see should we wake.”   
  
“You mean if I wake from a nightmare,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss her gently in thanks. She gave him a small shrug and smiled.   
  
“You'll see I'm here, and safe,” she explained, wrapping her arms around him. She gave him a quick kiss and turned to her wardrobe, pulling sleeping clothes out and tossing them onto the bed.    
  
She eyed Fenris for a moment, then scooped up the soft sleep pants and tossed them to him.    
  
“Those have a drawstring, they ought to work, if that would be more comfortable.”  She pulled the matching sleep shirt over her head, rolling up the sleeves on the over-large shirt. It hit her legs just below mid-thigh, and once she'd settled it into place, she wiggled out of the skirt and tossed it toward a basket in one corner. It fell short, and she shrugged.   
  
When she turned back to Fenris, he was just pulling the drawstring pants up over his hips, and she caught a tantalizing flash of bronze skin. She flushed slightly, and turned to crawl into bed.  Fenris turned as he was pulling the drawstring taut, and she had to giggle a little, she was certainly broader through the hips than the lithe elf, and the pants bagged oddly on him. He gave her a curious look as he sat on the edge of the bed, removing his foot wrappings methodically, and she shrugged.   
  
“Don’t mind me, I’m just admiring the view,” she teased, giving him a saucy wink.    
  
He crooked a smile at her, then slid under the blankets. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her softly, sliding his fingers gently down her back. They kissed slowly, then Marian wormed her way closer, and laid her head against his chest.  He wrapped his arms around her and cuddled her close, his legs tangling with hers. He shifted about for a moment, and she moved her head to his shoulder, then back to his upper chest. He stirred restlessly.   
  
“Alright, why can't we get comfortable?” she demanded, pouting a little.   
  
“I have a thought, if I may?” Fenris murmured into her hair. He slid his hand down her jaw, and tilted her face gently upward. He bent to capture her lips, and she sighed against him. He deepened the kiss slowly, thrusting his tongue inside to tangle with hers. She gave a low moan as she pressed closer, her body sliding against his hip, and he groaned at the feeling. His hands slid down her back to pull her against him, and though he was no more than half hard at the moment, as he continued to kiss her passionately, she could feel his arousal firming against her. When he broke the kiss and offered her name up in a reverent whisper, she simply melted against him.   
  
He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, and she snuggled against him contentedly.    
  
“Much better,” she murmured, sighing happily as he began to slowly stroke her hair.  She heard his low rumbling laughter, and closed her eyes, smiling as she drifted off to sleep.   
  


“My amata,” she heard him whisper just before sleep pulled her under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm such a tease.
> 
>  
> 
> Last chapter where the Mature rating will stand, we're upgrading to Explicit next.


	7. Amata, Amatus.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change to explicit.
> 
> As always, appreciation and kudos to my most amazing beta, Barbex, who gets my sense of humour. And occasionally even finds it funny. ;)

Marian woke slowly, feeling a languid warmth infusing her limbs. She'd been having a most pleasant dream, and her lips curved in a sensuous smile. She became conscious of fingers stroking lightly along her shoulder and the line of her collarbone. Opening her eyes, she met Fenris' eyes as he tenderly cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes sliding closed for a moment.   
  
“Marian…”    
  
Her name was whispered, an invocation, desire and love, all rolled into one.    
  
Unconsciously she tilted her face up towards his voice, and their lips met tentatively, barely brushing against each other.    
  
She opened her eyes to meet his again, and saw the question in those forest green depths. In answer, she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, and slowly pulled him down for another kiss.  He kept her gaze as he sank down against her, his body warm and loose with the memory of sleep.    
  
She kissed him slowly, gently, trying to say all the things in her heart that she couldn't find the words to say. As they broke apart for a moment, he rested his forehead against hers, simply breathing her in.   
  
“Fen…” she whispered, “please.”   
  
He nuzzled at her jaw, then laid a gentle kiss against her throat just below her ear.   
  
“As you wish.”  

 

Their lips met again, this time far more urgently. She stroked her fingertips lightly down his spine, and felt the skin pebbling under her hands. He trembled at her touch, and skimmed his hand down her side to her hip, pulling her body to his. She slid one hand into his hair, her nails trailing carefully up from his neck to his crown, then caressed back downward, this time grazing his ear with her thumb, from the tip down to his earlobe.    
  
He gave a soft moan against her lips, and his callused hand moved to her thigh, grasping her leg and pulling it up to catch about his hip, fitting their bodies together. She whimpered against his mouth, her hips giving an involuntary twitch, both of them groaning at the friction. He caressed his way up and down her leg, his rough hand scratching lightly along her skin.    
  
She drew back from the kiss, head thrown back, panting in small gasps as his hips ground slowly against her. She could feel a slow, delicious warmth unfurling at her centre, her smalls growing damp with her arousal. She pressed her lips to his, desperate, plundering his mouth with her tongue, a moan escaping him as her hand found the small of his back, pulling him against her.    
  
His hand skimmed up from her knee to her hip, his fingers tightening briefly before sliding under her sleep shirt and up her spine. She rolled her hips against his in a sensuous wave, feeling his cock swelling against her. The heat pooling at her core was spreading, bringing a flush to her skin, and she quickly rolled Fenris onto his back, straddling his hips as she kissed him deeply. She heard his grunt of surprise, and drew back to look down at him.   
  
“Is this alright, Fen?” she murmured, tracing her fingers lightly down his chest, trying to stay in the spaces between the tattoos as much as possible. His thumbs were tracing small circles over her hipbones, and he gave her a slow smile, then threw his head back on a gasp as her clever fingers toyed gently with his nipples.   
  
“Is this alright?” he asked breathlessly in return, inching her shirt upward.  She chuckled softly, and leaned back to pull it over her head. He hissed for a moment, his head thrown back on the pillow, as her movement pressed her down against his still trapped length. He met her gaze, then slid his hands from her sides up to trace the delicate skin underneath her breasts, and she squirmed above him. He groaned at the feel of her shifting against him, and pulled her down for another kiss, rolling his hips up into her. She arched towards him, whimpering as the taut peaks of her nipples brushed against his chest.   
  
Suddenly, she found herself beneath him as he rolled her swiftly onto her back. He was settled firmly between her legs, the linen of the sleep pants doing little to conceal his arousal as he thrust gently against her.   
  
“Fen…” she breathed against his lips, her palms flat against his lower back, pulling him closer as he ground against her. “ _ Please! _ ”   
  
“Yes?” he asked, his tone teasing and sly as he shifted and thrust again, a growing wet spot staining the front his pants as he teased them both.   
  
“Fenris!” she growled, glaring up at him as she hooked an ankle behind his knee, canting her hips upward. “Lose the pants already! Or were you planning on teasing me for hours?”   
  
His low chuckle rippled down her spine, and he leaned close to whisper in her ear, his husky voice heightening her anticipation.   
  
“That does sound like a pleasant way to spend a morning,” he murmured, smirking as she shivered. “But no, not today.”    
  
He raised to all fours, and slowly crawled backwards down her body. He paused to trail kisses over her collarbone, then dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat. She moaned when his lips and tongue found her nipple, and his thumb rubbed slowly over the neglected one. She fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him against her, arching her back with the pleasure spiking through her. He switched sides, laving his tongue over the sensitive bud of her nipple, his clever fingers teasing at the other.   
  
Marian whimpered beneath her lover, holding him close with a tight grip in his hair. He chuckled softly against her skin, then moved lower. He trailed kisses down her abdomen, and this time when he reached her newest scar, he didn't freeze or hesitate. He kissed along the edges, teasing and toying with her. He rolled her onto her front, and leaned down to worship the second scar. His hands kneaded at her lower back in a dizzying caress, and Marian felt a whimper escape her throat. Fenris kissed and licked and sucked along her scar and lower back until she was nearly mindless with sensation.   
  
“Please…” she heard herself begging, and heard Fenris' rumbling growl in return. “Please!”   
  
Fenris gave one last nibble, then moved to let her roll into her back again. Marian watched his eyes darken as he took in her debauched expression. He toyed with the edge of her smalls, and she growled at him. He stroked over the cloth between her thighs, smirking when he found it soaked with her arousal.   
  
“Andraste's ass, Fenris, if you don't--" Her head went back on a gasp, turning into a low, drawn out moan as Fenris’ tattoos lit, and she felt two of his fingers slide into her, shifting right past the fabric. “Oh, fuck! Fen, that's cheating!”   
  
He chuckled as he dropped kisses against her stomach, her hip bones, his fingers thrusting slowly in and out of her body. She whimpered as he withdrew his hand, then cursed again as her body jerked to the sound of tearing cloth. He pulled the scraps of fabric apart, and dove for her centre. His tongue lapped at her opening, the straight edge of his nose grinding against her clit, causing her to buck and arch into him.  He planted one hand on her hip, pinning her to the bed, and circled her clit with his tongue, flicking at it then sucking, teasing the sensitive nub until she was panting for him, her hands fisted in his hair.    
  
“Please, oh pleaseplease _ please _ ! Maker, Fen, there, yes,  _ yes, ah ah ah ah! _ ” Her cries grew louder as he thrust his fingers into her, curling them within her to stroke over a spot that sent sparks of pleasure firing down to her fingertips. That spreading warmth built at her core, condensing into a molten ball of need, coiling hotter and tighter, until finally it burst.   
  
Marian trembled as her release swept through her, her toes curling and she arched off the bed, crying out her lover's name. He kept teasing and running his tongue over her folds, sliding up to circle her clit gently, drawing out her pleasure. Finally she tugged on his hair lightly, her body loose and pliant beneath him.   
  
“Fen…” she breathed, her voice husky from her cries. “I need you. Make love to me, amata.”   
  
Fenris crawled up her torso, dropping kisses here and there on her flushed skin. At her words, his eyes darkened, then he chuckled softly.   
  
“I would be your amatus, Marian, not amata,” he told her, leaning in for a kiss, propped on one elbow over her. His lips were gentle against hers, and she opened for him, sliding her tongue against his, moaning softly when she tasted herself on his tongue.   
  
“What’s the difference?” she asked when they separated, watching as his smile turned wicked.   
  
“Mmm... That's a hard question,” he teased, thrusting his hips against her, his cock pressing solidly against her. She whined at the contact, his sleep pants rough against her sensitive and swollen clit.    
  
“Fenris, unless you want me to cut those pants off you, I suggest you get undressed,” she mock-threatened, grinning up at him.    
  
He nipped at her lower lip, sucking on it lightly, his hand wandering over her ribs and down her side, before moving to the ties on his clothing.   
  
“I don't believe your hands are quite steady enough for that at the moment, Marian, so I suppose I'll cooperate.”   
  
He sat back on his heels, and slid the soft sleep pants down his lean thighs, rolling them down past his knees and off. Marian ignored the path they followed, however, her gaze caught on his cock, the head flushed and beading with precome. He stretched out above her again, and she reached down to slide her palm down his shaft once, twice, a third time. Fenris held himself above her, trembling with need as he waited, the tip of his cock teasing at her entrance.   
  
“Amatus,” she murmured softly.  “Make love to me, Fen.”   
  
He gave a shuddering sigh, and slid home, hilting in one thrust, both of them crying out. He pulled back slowly, then rolled his hips forward as she canted hers up toward him, taking him deeper on the next thrust.    
  
They began with a slow rhythm, rocking against each other with slow kisses, her hands caressing down his back while he tangled one hand in her hair.     
  
“I've missed you, Fen,” she whispered, burying her face against his neck, trembling.    
  
“And I, you,” he replied, his gravelly voice rumbling down her spine, “My Marian.”   
  
He leaned back to look at her, his moss green eyes dark with emotion.    
  
“I will never leave you again, amata,” he promised, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.  She whimpered against him, her hands grasping at his waist. When he would have drawn back again, she chased after him, clutching at his shoulders as she thrust her tongue into his mouth, tangling with his. He gave a guttural moan, and Marian shivered, then wrapped her legs about his waist, taking him deeper into her body.   
  
“Fen, please!” she moaned, trying to rock faster against him, but he kept to a slow, teasing glide. “I need…  _ oh! _ I need you, please! Please, move faster, harder,  _ anything! _ ”   
  
He gave a low chuckle that spiked her arousal higher, and snapped his hips forward, driving into her with enough strength to slide her further up the bed, until she took hold of the carved headboard, bracing to thrust back onto him.  He groaned as she tightened about him, and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, giving a feral grin when she cried out on the next thrust.   
  
She dropped her leg from about his waist to brace her foot on the bed, using the leverage to thrust back up against her lover, calling his name again before devolving to incomprehensible pleas.  Her head was thrown back, exposing the column of her throat, and he bent to lick a stripe from her collarbone to her earlobe. She turned quickly and captured the shell of his ear lightly between her teeth, and his hips stuttered as he groaned.   
  
“Kaffas, Marian, what you do to me!” he panted, leaning back again and trailing kisses down her calf, before sliding her leg from his shoulder. “Let go, Marian…”   
  
“Fen, I'm not there,” she breathed, shaking her head as she chased that sharp explosion of pleasure. He thrust sharply into her, pulling a gasp from her as her eyes flew open to meet his.   
  
“Let go of the headboard, Marian,” he rephrased, a rumble of amusement threading through his voice. She did as he asked with a grin, and then yelped as he rolled them both so she straddled him, his hands on her thighs. She lifted herself and dropped down, and cried out at the deeper thrust.    
  
She reached for him, her fingers clutching, and he locked their hands together. She braced herself against his hands, and started riding him in earnest. The whimpering gasps that escaped her were becoming breathy and higher, and Fenris seemed to fight to control his response, apparently desperate to feel her clutching about him before he came. She could feel that roaring heat building in her gut again, and moaned his name.   
  
“Marian, Marian... come for me.” He loosed one of her hands, and dropped his hand to circle her clit with the pad of his thumb, murmuring encouragement as her walls began to tighten around his cock. “That's it, love. Take your pleasure, come for me, amata.”   
  
Marian shattered, crying out his name, grinding down onto his cock. She heard his breathing hitch, and looked down to meet his eyes. She rolled her hips, and he gripped her waist as he thrust frantically into her.   
  
“Mari… Mari!” he cried out, the muscles in his thighs locking underneath her, his stomach rippling as he thrust again, and again. His tattoos suddenly flared, and she felt the heavy pulse of his cock within her. She rolled her hips slowly, milking the last of his release, before collapsing over his chest.  Their breathing gradually slowed, and he pulled her to him for a slow, tender kiss.   
  
“Maker, Mari… I love you,” he murmured against her lips.   
  
“I love you, too, Fen.”   
  
She settled against his side, cuddled close with an arm thrown over his chest. He pulled a blanket up to keep their sweat-damp skin from chilling in the morning air, and kissed her tenderly again.

 

**   
  
Marian had dropped off, her breathing slow and even, and Fenris was on the verge of sleep, when he heard it.  A heavy sigh from the other side of the door. He rolled his eyes, and carefully extricated himself from Marian.  He padded across the room, and pulled the door open long enough to let Bear in.   
  
“Quietly, she needs her rest,” Fenris murmured, scratching the mabari's ears as he closed the door again.     
  
Bear hopped up at the foot of the bed, sniffed about, and sneezed heavily. He looked at Fenris reproachfully, and the elf rolled his eyes.   
  
“You can keep your opinions to yourself, thank you,” Fenris told him as he slid back under the covers and wrapped his arms about Marian again.    
  
The last thing he heard before falling asleep was a snort from Bear.   
  
  



	8. "You're not alone, Fenris"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act three, Marian and Aveline drag a badly wounded Fenris into Anders' clinic, where the healer finds his suffering from dragon fire and fang. Anders must dig deep to save him.

Marian and Aveline staggered through the door, accidentally slamming it, the resounding boom startling Anders and his assistant Rosalie. They were bloodied and limping, and carried Fenris between them. His steps faltered, and Marian shouted his name.

“Fenris, I said you weren't alone, now don't you _dare_ leave me! Anders!” she called the healer desperately, her eyes stinging, brimming with tears she dared not let fall. “Anders, please, hurry!”

“Andraste's ass, what happened to you lot?” Anders ran over, and made short work of picking up the wounded elf, gently laying him on a table.

“These look like burns, but that … that's a bite! What in the Maker's blasted name did you fight?”

“High dragon,” Aveline gritted out, her teeth clenched against her own pain.

Anders glanced at her and noticed her freckles standing out against her pallor. He started to go to her, but she shook her head.

“Varric is raiding Lady Elegant's supply, and bringing it here. Plus I can make use of the Keep's healer. Save your strength for where it's needed. And no matter what this idiot says, she needs it too,” Aveline said tartly, jerking her thumb at Hawke.

“Avi, I can wait for the potions. I'm in no danger of dying.” She spoke reasonably, almost calm, but she couldn't keep her eyes from restlessly scanning Fenris’ unconscious form. She ignored the throb of her broken arm, and caressed Fenris’ forehead, brushing his hair gently back from his face.

Anders was watching her carefully, but she was still too slow to dodge when he reached over and grabbed her arm. The pain when he straightened the break was excruciating, and she stumbled, feeling Aveline catch her against her side with a grunt. She'd felt Anders’ healing more times than she could count, but this wasn't the slow gentle warmth, this was a burst of fire through her veins, and she screamed as she passed out.

She came to, still slumped against Aveline, who was yelling at Anders.

“What in Andraste's name was _that_ , Anders?!” Aveline shouted, even as the healer's hands lit with blue fire, hovering over Fenris, healing the vicious puncture wound, for the moment ignoring the burn that covered one arm and his ribs.

They'd used their potions to keep him alive on the trek down the mountain, though Marian could have used one for her broken arm. The burn might only scar, it might even cost him the arm, Marian had no way of knowing. But the puncture to his abdomen would kill him.

Varric showed up with a box of potions, and a muttered comment about getting a bulk rate, and Anders curtly ordered him to get one into Hawke, and two into Aveline. Varric had clearly already helped himself, his black eye and broken nose merely yellowed bruising now.

“Blondie, there's lyrium in here too, if you need it. If not for Fenris, your next patient.”

“I might. This is bad. Andraste's flaming tits, what the hell prompted you to take on a high dragon? The four of you?!” the healer snarled, his frustration at seeing his friends hurt sharpening his tongue.

“The Bone Pit. I'm responsible, or I was responsible for the workers. They're all dead. We were checking for survivors when the blasted dragon dropped a significant chunk of the mine behind us. We'd nowhere to go, Anders. Trust me, we’d have fled if we could. I'm not suicidal, not for some time now.”

Anders met her eyes, and gave a slow nod of understanding. He turned his focus back to Fenris, who hadn't stirred since the healing began. Marian stepped closer, and though she ached to take his hand, she knew better than to interfere with the healing.

Anders glanced at her, and shrugged.

“Take his hand, Hawke. Worst is you'll get a bit of the feedback of the healing, which may hurt. Best is he'll know it's you and respond.”

She clasped her lover's hand immediately, and crouched to rest her forehead against his uninjured arm.

“Amatus, my Fen. You have to stay. Please, love, I need you.” She spoke to him softly, imploringly. She lost track of time as she murmured to him. That he was completely free, with his old master dead. Their plans to leave Kirkwall one day and make a home for themselves without such bloody memories. Their plans for children, for orphans were everywhere, and they would gladly take them in. She spoke until she was hoarse, falling into something of a trance herself as Anders worked on Fenris’ unconscious form. Fenris' skin was unnaturally pale from blood loss.

She barely registered when Varric handed Anders a lyrium potion, simply kept holding Fenris’ hand and stroking his hair from his eyes. Moments turned to candlemarks, her voice was gone, but still she stayed, til her thighs burned and went numb. She scarcely noticed when Aveline tucked a crate under her rear, nor did she hear the door open and shut when Anders sent Rosalie home to sleep.

As though from great distance, she heard her name. Fatigue, pain and fear fogged her mind, and as she turned, her head spun. She caught herself against the table, spots dancing before her vision, her blood roaring in her ears.

 _Blackness_.

 

**

 

Fenris groaned, his eyes gritty and his tongue nearly glued to the roof of his mouth. Too many healing potions, now he desperately needed wine to clear his head. He cracked his eyes open, taking in Anders’ clinic. That explained the smell.

Marian was holding his hand, but just as he tried to focus on her, she swayed, and he heard Aveline call her name.

She tumbled from the crate, Aveline catching her before she could hit the dirt floor. Fenris watched in concern, but was too weak to move just yet. Aveline lifted Marian and set her carefully on a cot, even as Fenris attempted to reach for her. He failed, his arm spasming in pain, then overtaken by an odd numbness. He tried again, and suddenly Varric was blocking his sight of her.

“Hold still, Broody. Anders has your arm as numbed as he can, but you need to be careful not to do more damage. He's having a nap, we wake him in another candlemark and he'll heal the rest.”

“Marian. What's wrong with Marian, Varric?” he demanded, forcing himself to lay still.

“Other than exhaustion from hauling your ass down from the Bone Pit, worrying herself half to death every time you so much as shivered at night, the part where your heart stopped and she pounded on your chest until you gasped and breathed again, and all with her own injuries because she kept giving her healing draughts to you… _other_ than those things, I'm guessing she's crashing after one too many stamina potions. Anders has already healed her, she’ll wake up tomorrow, and feel like she had a ten-day drunk at the Hanged Man with Isabela, only with less entertainment.”

“My … my heart stopped?” Fenris repeated in surprise.

“Sure did, Broody. Luckily we were only a candlemark or so from Kirkwall by that point. Although the rumours are probably already spreading about the Champion beating on the chest of a dead elf and screaming.”

Fenris almost choked at the image, but his gaze drifted to Marian's still form again, and he felt concern for his amata overwhelming him.

“She should be resting at home.” Fenris frowned, thinking the cot she lay upon was a poor substitute for their bed.

“And once Anders has healed you, we'll take her first, then come back for you. But you have to wait a candlemark. Anders pushed himself to exhaustion healing her and then you, and I'm not convinced he hasn't been running himself ragged lately anyway. He's definitely paler than he should be.”

Fenris turned his head to meet Varric's eyes, then glanced at Aveline. She nodded, her brow furrowed in worry.

“He's… changed. His passion has turned to obsession. I've had to have my guards remove him from a boat heading to the Gallows directly more than once. There's no way he would stay unnoticed, or even try to. At the first sight of a Tranquil, he would lose whatever control over Justice he may have left. If he even tried.”

Aveline's voice dropped to nearly a whisper at the end, her gaze flicking towards a cot in the corner where Anders snored steadily, unaware of their discussion.

“ _Venhedis!_ ” Fenris muttered sharply. “This will not end well. The tensions in this city are already at a boiling point, between the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. They're constantly pushing at her to choose sides. She does what she can, but she is but one woman. She cannot be pulled in so many directions, she gives everything and keeps nothing for herself.”

“Isn't that where you come in, Broody?” Varric asked softly, and Fenris nodded.

“Whatever I can do to shoulder some of the burden she bears. Anything,” Fenris asserted.

“Enough about that, Broody. What was she saying to you while Anders was working on healing you? You're thinking about adopting an orphan?” Varric had an enormous smile on his face, and Fenris watched him warily.

“Our plans to adopt is something you will never mention in that ridiculous tome of yours.” Fenris glared, light flickering along his tattoos.

Varric's eyes widened at the display, and he held his hands to his chest in a dramatic display.

“Sir, you wound me! She has enough enemies, no one will get fodder against her from my book.”

Fenris relaxed, and sheepishly stilled the flaring of his tattoos with a focused twist of his mind.

“So it's entirely fiction then?” he teased.

“Just for that, I'm delaying your reunion to the third act, so you spend three years apart,” Varric shook his head, feigned reluctance in his eyes. Fenris rolled his eyes in return, a smile playing about his lips.

“As though I would ever have been fool enough to stay away so long,” Fenris scoffed. His eyes drifted back to Marian, and he frowned. “She's too pale. She hasn't been well recently, but when we heard about the ‘Pit, her Fereldens, she had to go.”

“What do you mean she hasn't been well?” Aveline asked, turning to stare at Marian as though she could decipher the root of her pallor.

“She's easily fatigued, she's not eating properly, other than those nut, honey, and seed balls that she has Orana make by the bushel it seems. She's lost weight as well.” Fenris tried to turn unconsciously, and hissed at the odd numbness of his wounded arm, which kept throwing him off balance.

“If you three insist on chattering,” came a groggy, irritated voice from the cot in the corner, “I'd better heal the elf so I can get some peace.”

“Sorry, Blondie, we've just been catching up, you know? A few days keeping someone from bleeding out and dying while dragging them back to a healer and you lose track of the little details.” Varric had pulled his spectacles and a small notebook from a pocket, and managed to retrieve a pen with tiny bottle of ink. He opened the book and the _skritch skritch_ of his pen dragging across the page as he made notes filled the silence.

“Check Marian first. She collapsed,” Fenris insisted. Anders rolled his eyes and turned to the woman on the other cot.

“Pushed herself too hard again, didn't she? I've only seen her faint once, when she wasn't seriously injured. Andraste's flaming ass, when will she learn she needs to pace herself?! It's not as though-- _Holy Andraste on a stick!”_ The healing glow around him disappeared abruptly, and he swore under his breath with a wince, but Fenris' sharp ears caught something about _learned last time…_

Anders sent Fenris an indecipherable glance, then turned back to Marian, carefully running his glowing hands over her. He straightened from his crouch, and turned back to Fenris.

“She's fine. Completely healthy, other than exhaustion from the flight down the mountain. Now, has she been eating properly?”

“Orana makes those seed balls for her, she's been snacking on them constantly,” Fenris told him, staring at him somewhat suspiciously. He felt the mage was hiding something, but what? Surely he wouldn't lie about Marian's health if something were truly wrong. And what had prompted that outburst if everything was fine?

“You're certain she's alright? She's lost weight recently, and is more easily fatigued.”

“Well, how long has that been going on?” Anders asked, moving across the clinic to Fenris’ side.

“A few weeks, perhaps?”

“Well, perhaps it's passing, I didn't find anything wrong. But when she wakes, by all means, tell her to stop by and I can check with her. Likely it's simply the stress of the role of Champion.  Everyone wants something from her, after all. In the meantime, let's get that arm healed. She needs you at full strength.” Anders nodded to Fenris, a certain resignation in his expression. Perhaps he'd finally, _finally,_ accepted that he had no chance with Marian. It might account for his darkened mood of late, and his focus elsewhere to distract himself.

Fenris saw Anders reaching for a lyrium potion, and made a snap decision.

“Wait. I can provide that for you. Save those for others when you've need. For now, I can give you the strength to heal me.”

Anders gave him an unreadable look, his lips pressed in a thin line. Finally a rueful smile crossed his face, and he shook his head, blond hair swaying as he downed the lyrium. He shivered slightly, making a face at the taste, and set the empty vial aside.

“I don’t think you quite appreciate how close you were to dying. The pain of your tattoos could stop your heart. The potion and salve I've used are numbing a great deal, but you are not as well as you feel.” Anders hesitated a moment, then seemed to steel himself. “Please. Fenris. For her sake.”

Fenris stared at the mage for a moment, trying to decipher his thoughts, but he was apparently in earnest.  

“I'll try to avoid any conflicts until I've healed. How long will that be?”

“I'll take care of your arm now, then you get her home and both of you sleep yourselves out. No emergencies allowed, do you understand, Guard-Captain?” Anders sent Aveline a look as he spoke, and she nodded.

“The healer has spoken, so shall we obey, Blondie,” Varric teased, but he nodded as well.

Anders gave Varric a smile that was almost his old expression, a little taunting, and a lot amused. Then his expression turned stern, and he looked back at Fenris.

“I mean it. Your heart has had a strain, and those tattoos of yours won't serve her if you drop dead.”

Fenris nodded again, and closed his eyes as Anders laid one hand on his shoulder, and the other elsewhere. He cracked his eyes open again, and saw the healer's hand on his wrist, but whatever Anders had used to numb his arm was completely effective.  He let his eyes fall shut again. He felt a soothing warmth spread from the hand at his shoulder, setting his arm tingling with pins and needles as sensation fought against the salve. He turned his head and opened his eyes, looking at the blistered and reddened skin, the tattoos standing out starkly against the burn. Not even dragon fire could damage them, nor remove their track from his skin. He sighed, and Anders met his eyes with concern. Fenris gave a shrug with his good shoulder.

“An errant thought,” he explained, and Anders gave him a humourless, one-sided smile.

“I'm familiar with those. Alright,” he stepped back, eyeing Fenris’ arm. “Try to make a fist. I know, still numb. Think about the hand, and make a fist. There, well done. No permanent damage then, though it's going to scar. As will that bite. You're lucky to be alive. It was poisoning your blood, and likely why your heart stopped. Gut wounds will do that all too often. Now, listen to what I'm saying. Stay home for tonight and tomorrow. The next day you two can be heroes again. Just no more high dragons.”

 

**

 

Fenris watched as Varric cajoled a child into running to the Chantry to fetch Sebastian, and another to find Isabela. Sebastian would carry Marian, with Aveline, Varric, and Isabela warding off any unwanted attention. Fenris tried to interrupt to mention the cellar entrance, and was told to keep quiet, his only role would be to hold Marian as the last defense if they needed Sebastian to fight. Fenris rolled his eyes, and waited. Isabela and Merrill strolled in arm in arm, Merrill chattering away while Isabela smiled down at her fondly. Isabela looked up, and Fenris watched as her shoulders tensed. She took in Varric's bruising, the scrapes left on Aveline after her healing potions.  She glanced at Marian out cold on a cot, and her eyes widened, finding Fenris just sitting up on the table. Her deep brown eyes took in the great rents in his armour, where the dragon had mauled him in its massive jaws. The leather strap that followed his left arm from the shoulder to disappear under the gauntlet was gone, the end scorched, dangling near his upper arm. His gauntlet was in someone's pack, but who knew whether it could be repaired. Her gaze travelled to his hip, and her eyes widened further, her lips parting slightly.

Fenris had played cards with her. That was a shout of dismay from anyone else. He followed her glance down, and his heart clenched. The crest he'd worn for more than three years was scorched, dark with ash and a line of discolouration snaked across it, though whether from a claw or a fang, he didn't know.

He had to touch Marian. Had to make sure she was alright. The last two days were a blur, but he could vaguely recall her cajoling, begging, threatening him in turn.

He tried to let himself off the table carefully, but the strange numbness had taken over his arm again and it nearly buckled underneath him. He stumbled a step before catching himself with a grunt, and made his way to his lover's side. He bent and smoothed a hand gently over her hair, then trailed a knuckle lightly down her jaw. Her face turned ever so slightly towards his touch, and the corners of her mouth curled up in a tiny smile. Fenris let out a tiny sigh of relief. They'd both survived against the odds, again.

“I was told ye had need of some assistance, then?” Sebastian's brogue rolled through the clinic, and Fenris stood to greet his best friend. They were an unlikely pair, but had bonded over discussions of faith. He clapped a hand on Fenris’ good shoulder, and glanced about.

Varric cut in before the inevitable questions could start.

“We received bad news of the Bone Pit by way of a half-dead mule and a scorched cart. Our illustrious leader insisted we had to investigate immediately, which is of course why we love her. Unfortunately for the Ferelden workers, immediately was a few days too late. We were trapped by a high dragon, which summoned dragonlings by the score, as well as adolescent and mature dragons. It was a difficult battle, injuries were received all around. Our hero was stunned, and it seemed the fearsome beast would finish her, when a mighty warrior appeared as though from the fade, glowing with power as he knocked our hero aside, taking the brunt of the flame. Sore wounded, the warrior was swept up in the monster's jaws--”

“Enough, Varric,” Fenris interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Save it for the Hanged Man, and I'll pay the first round. I just want to get Marian home. She was hurt, she's exhausted herself getting me home, she'll be fine once she sleeps. Shall we go? Seb, my arm isn't up to it. Please, carry Marian.”

“I'll keep her safe, my friend,” Sebastian promised, with the solemnity of a vow.

Aveline started issuing directions for how to protect Marian on the way through Darktown, and then Lowtown. It was dusk, so by the time they reached Hightown the thugs would be out in force. Fenris shook his head, and pulled his key from a pocket, a copy of the one Leandra had given Bethany, who had handed it to Marian all those years ago. He coughed sharply, and waved the key.

“I tried to tell you. We've no need to go through those dangers. But Sebastian, I would still appreciate your arm. We've a few stairs to navigate.”

Sebastian nodded and scooped Marian into his arms, and Merrill pulled a long scarf from her bag, and padded it under Marian's head against Sebastian's armour.

“Why didn't you say something earlier, Fenris?” Aveline demanded, irritated.

“I did try. Look at it this way, Aveline. You'll be home to Donnic that much sooner,” Fenris cajoled, running his fingers through his hair as he flashed her a smile.

“I…” she stammered, looking at him strangely.

It didn't matter. Fenris had realised something, and if he was correct, nothing could damage his mood. “I suppose you're right, Fenris. Lead the way, then.”

“In a moment, I've a question for Anders, first,” Fenris told them, shooing them ahead, handing the key to Varric. He'd be able to find the entrance in a heartbeat.

“What's your question, Fenris?” Anders asked cautiously.

“She isn't late yet. I thought you told her she couldn't even conceive. How is this possible, with the injury she took?”

“I told her it was highly unlikely, especially not quickly. If her womb had a chance to heal however, as in years, then perhaps.”

“Then, she is?” Fenris asked, his expression dazed.

“How could you possibly know?” Anders demanded, his surprise clear on his features, and Fenris smirked briefly before replying.

“Orana had told me what she was like last time, losing weight, unable to eat much, exhausted. I'd taken it for stress, given the state Kirkwall is in. But that doesn't account for you.”

“Me?” Anders asked, slightly offended.

“‘Holy Andraste on a stick.’ Those were your words. And as you said, she doesn't faint for no reason. So tell me, mage. Am I correct in my guess?”

Anders gave a low chuckle and nodded.

“Congratulations.”

Fenris had to brace himself as his knees went weak.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, much love to barbex for her help as my beta!


	9. "Tu gravidam"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian and Fenris recuperate at home, and Fenris shares the news. His wounds are more serious than they thought, and Bethany is summoned to help heal him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to my patient readers. Mea culpa, life got nuts over the holidays.
> 
> To my wonderful beta, Barbex, who keeps me in line. 💖

“Is there anything we ought to do, to keep her and the babe safe?” Fenris asked in a low murmur, his need to protect Marian overriding any and all other concerns. Anders sighed.

“No duels with Qunari, would be my first thought,” Anders offered with an edge of sarcasm. “I told her the basics last time; send a message tomorrow when you've both awakened, I'll stop by and remind her. Keep those seed and nut balls on hand, I gave Orana that recipe, they'll help keep her energy up when she can't eat anything else. I'll arrange for some teas as well that will help settle her stomach.”

“Is.. is there anything we can do to keep her safe? I know you told her she'd likely never conceive again because of the damage. Is it inevitable that she lose the babe?” 

“No, but she must have a healer there when her time comes. Bethany, perhaps. I know her focus has been the healing arts as well. In case of any complications from her scar.”

Fenris nodded and turned to the exit, hearing their friends growing restless outside the door. He turned back.

“Why suggest Bethany, and not you?” Fenris asked.

“You've seen the growing number of Tranquil, and the number of Templars sweeping through. I cannot promise I will be here…” Anders explained, but Fenris wondered at the hesitation in his voice.

“Very well. Until tomorrow then.” Fenris opened the door and found Isabela nearly on top of it. He raised one sardonic eyebrow at her, but she simply shot him a cocky smile, and wrapped an arm about Merrill's shoulders.

“Varric, the passage to the right, if you please.” Fenris made his way to Varric's side, and showed him the hidden keyhole and the disguised door. His ears twitched slightly at the muttered comments about  _ smith class selling secrets _ , and  _ selfish hypocrites _ , but he didn't remark upon either.  Fenris held the door as Varric led the way in, when there was a sudden shout from inside. 

“Bear, down!” Varric ordered, and Fenris ran forward, reminding himself not to shift closer with his tattoos.

Bear was growling and grumbling, and Fenris shook his head. He'd been overly protective for a few weeks now. About as long as Marian had been unwell, it suddenly occurred to him, and he grinned, and whistled sharply. Bear's tongue lolled out, and he danced around Fenris like a puppy, his entire hindquarters wagging with his enthusiasm.  Fenris crouched to greet the mabari, and once his face was thoroughly licked, he laid his forehead against Bear's, murmuring softly enough that no others could hear.

“She's alright, just asleep. Good boy, keeping our home safe. Good boy, protecting them. You knew, didn't you?” he asked. Bear gave a happy bark and rolled onto his back to have his tummy rubbed, and Fenris obliged with a chuckle.

“Are we allowed to come in?” Isabela asked, with Sebastian holding Marian carefully behind her. 

“Of course. Bear was simply defending his mistress' home. And he knows she hasn't been well, so he's a little more diligent is all. Varric, you're alright?”

“You know, those fangs are entirely too close to these handsome features. But I'm alright.”

“Then let's get everyone upstairs. Aveline, are you staying for a meal? We can send word to Donnic to join us.” Fenris was climbing the stairs, their friends tromping up behind, Bear ahead of him, scouting for trouble.  Sandal opened the door at the top of the stairs with a gummy smile.

“Enchantment!” he cried joyously, tugging Fenris towards the kitchen. 

Orana turned as they entered, and smiled, and gestured at the large pot bubbling away on the stove.

“He was after me all afternoon, kept handing me potatoes until I had enough to please him. If everyone is here, we'll eat it all.”

Fenris quickly nodded and stepped out into the antechamber. He could hear voices from the library, but there was a low, rumbling bark from upstairs, and he rolled his eyes, making for the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he nearly stumbled halfway up. Fenris jogged down the hall, and found Marian had been placed on the bed, and now Bear was standing at her feet grumbling at everyone, refusing to let anyone close.

“Bear, you fool, let Isabela and I make her comfortable. Seb, thank you. I'll be along shortly.” Sebastian chuckled softly at the mabari's antics, and excused himself to join the others in the library. Fenris stripped his armour and leather tunic, and pulled a linen one over his head. Isabela winked at him as he turned, and he rolled his eyes with a smile, knowing she was devoted to Merrill. The two worked quickly, and got Marian stripped to her underthings, and Fenris folded back the bedspread on one side. He carefully hooked his good arm under hers and about her waist, while Isabela took her legs. They maneuvered her to the side, and Fenris tucked a blanket around her. He stroked a gentle hand over her cheek, and Isabela cleared her throat.

“Not a word, Bela. She may not know yet,” Fenris ordered sternly. “Not even to Merrill.”

“Oh fine, but you're spoiling all my fun!” she pouted, and nearly flounced out of the room. Once she was gone, Fenris quickly washed and changed from his filthy leather leggings to more comfortable cotton, foregoing the footwraps.

He met their friends in the library, most with drinks already poured. Aveline excused herself to head home to Donnic and her own bathing room, but Varric headed for the stairs and came back a short while later, freshly scrubbed and in clean clothing. Apparently he'd stopped for clothing when he was purchasing Lady Elegant's stock. 

Fenris tried to be a proper host to his friends, but within less than a candlemark he'd begun nodding over his meal. Isabela pulled him aside. 

“I talked to Varric. Go get some sleep, we'll finish up and make sure not to make a huge mess for Orana. Be selfish, you've earned it. Besides,” and she dropped her voice conspiratorially, “won't be too long before sleep will be a thing of the past.”

Fenris gave her a glare, and waved to his friends, heading up the stairs. He pushed open the door to their room, which he'd left ajar to allow Bear to roam. He crawled into bed next to Marian from the wrong side of the bed, and tucked his uninjured right arm around her. It was awkward, and he felt the new scar through his middle pull. He winced, thinking how close they'd been to death, and laid a gentle kiss against her forehead.

“Amata. I'm here, we're safe,” he murmured against her hair, and he laid a gentle hand to her abdomen, having to concentrate to move the oddly numb arm.

Bear huffed indignantly at the shift in sleeping arrangements, and shuffled around to Fenris’ usual side of the bed. 

“Sorry, old boy, give me a few days to recover, alright?” Fenris apologized softly.

The old mabari cast one reproachful look his way and sighed heavily.

Fenris listened to Marian's steady breathing, heard the more distance revelry of their friends, and slept.

 

**

 

The following morning he was woken abruptly when Marian fell over him trying to get out of bed quickly, and then she was scrambling from their room to the bathing chamber, where the sound of retching echoed back down the hall.

Fenris tried to leap up and fell back with a groan, his midsection aching with a sharp pain, and his arm tingling oddly. He winced, and rolled to his side, letting his feet fall to the floor. Unfortunately, that put his bad arm beneath him, and he struggled to get upright.  By the time he got shakily to his feet and made it down the hall to the bathing room, where a grimacing Marian was carefully brushing her teeth. 

“I'd better see Anders, I haven't felt this ill in years,” she muttered, her skin pale as she joined him in the hall.

“Marian, why don't you go back to bed, I'll ask Orana to get breakfast assembled for us both, and we can nap the day away.  We've a book to read, and we can see Anders this afternoon.”

Marian paled at the word “breakfast”, and shook her head violently. She went green suddenly, and dashed back into the bathing chamber. Fenris sighed, and made his way carefully down to the kitchen. 

“Orana, have we any fresh bread, mild cheese? Nothing with a strong scent. And I need a handful of those seed and honey treats. And a soothing tea. Mint, perhaps?”

Orana's eyes widened, and her hands flew to cover her mouth as she gasped.

“Mistress, she's…?” she broke off, and her eyes went shiny with tears.

“Hush now. I don't know if she knows. I'm going to convince her to go back to bed, we've had an arduous few days.”

Orana eyed his arm with its new scars, took in his own pallor, and she nodded with a concerned expression

“So I can see, Master Fenris. I'll bring something, and send a runner to the healer for a tea or tincture to help keep nausea down.”

Fenris took the plate she gave him, and headed back up the stairs. Time to share the happy, impossible news.

He got to their room, and she was sitting at the foot of the bed with her head in her hands.

“I'm up. I just don't want anything to eat. Other than maybe a few--” Fenris waved the plate under her nose, and she gave a hoarse chuckle, taking the energy treats from him.  “How did you know?”

“First and foremost, I have eyes, amata. You've barely eaten more than these and crusts of bread in weeks.”

“I eat! Just later. I've been fighting some illness, you know that.”

“No, Marian. You aren't ill.” Fenris gave her a tender smile, and knelt before her. “Marian,  _ amata _ ,  _ tu gravidam. Vos erant ‘habens Infantum.” _

She shook her head in mild frustration.

“Fen, you know my Tevene isn't up to new words when you throw them at me like that, all I caught was… was… infant?”

She fainted.

Fenris caught her with a grunt before she toppled off the bed, but the plate slipped from her grasp and hit the floor, breaking in two.

“Venhedis!” he cursed. He tried to stand, but his middle seized again, and he froze with a pained gasp. He sat back down, and slowly pulled Marian into his lap, carefully avoiding the broken plate. He held her closely, rocking her gently in his arms, when he heard Orana's voice behind him. He turned to see her looking over her shoulder, and recognizing her tone, he grinned, despite his own pain.

Sure enough, Bear was crowding behind her, herding her, even as she was scolding him ineffectually. 

“Bear, I'm going, quit shoving! Who do you think collects those tasty scraps for you that you get as extras. And the gravy? Good boy. I'll see what's going on.”

“He gets gravy?” Fenris teased lightly, startling Orana as she turned. 

“On… only occasionally,” she stammered, flushing. “Is Mistress alright?”

“She's just fainted. I told her she's pregnant, over she went. I caught her, but can't get her back on the bed without assistance. Is Bodahn around?”

Orana nodded, smiling in mild amusement. Fenris jerked his chin towards the bed, and Orana turned, spotting the plate with the seed balls here and there. 

“She was holding that when she went down. It was either the plate or her…”

“Well, I think Mistress will be grateful of your choice. I'll fetch Bodahn, just a moment.” 

She carefully collected the two halves of the plate, and held them together, eyeing the seam. Nodding, she took a cursory look at the floor and shooed Bear out of the room ahead of her. 

“No, those treats aren't yours, you old greedy gut. Yours are in the kitchen, you know that. Time for a roast chicken, and you can have the giblets. Well, move it along!”

The elven servant chivvied the dog along, speaking to him as though he were able to understand her. And considering his happy bark at the words  _ treats _ and  _ giblets _ , and the mad scramble down the stairs, that was the simple truth.

“Go fetch Bodahn from the garden, please, then you get a bone,” Fenris heard her call after the mabari, and the distant bark as Bear made for the kitchen door to the courtyard.

Fenris stroked long fingers through Marian's hair, noting it was getting longer again. He wondered absently how it would look flowing down her back, but she wore it short for the same reason he did. Ease of wear, security on the battlefield. More than one person died when their opponent grabbed their braid and hauled them onto a sword.

He heard the heavy tread of Bodahn climbing the stairs, and was facing the door when the older dwarf came through.

“Are you quite alright, Master Fenris? Orana said you needed assistance, and while I certainly don't mind at all, I thought it was peculiar.”

Fenris decided to save time. He held up his scarred arm for Bodahn to see, and he gasped. 

“I see now, that's quite the burn you had. Was Master Anders not with you? Goodness, I don't want to think of how much worse it could have been.”

“Bodahn, could you lift Marian onto the bed? I'm…” he frowned, frustrated at his state, “too injured as of yet to be any help.”

“Of course, of course! Is she unwell? She hasn't been acting as she should lately, don't think I haven't noticed!”

“No need to scold me, my friend, I'm doing my best but it may get worse before it gets better.”

“Oh? When do you think it'll get better? Maybe if the city were to settle down…”

Fenris gave a wry smile.

“Unfortunately I wouldn't count on that any time soon, Bodahn,” he said softly, and carefully handed Marian to the dwarf, trying to hide a wince.

Bodahn had set Marian carefully on the bed by the time Fenris got to his feet, one hand pressed to his middle, grimacing.

Fenris made his way over to the bed, and managed to sit without jarring himself too badly. But he fought a chill suddenly, and when he lifted a hand to wipe a hand over his eyes, it was shaking badly.

“Anders,” he whispered, then his eyes were rolling back in his head, and he collapsed on the bed against Marian.

 

** 

 

Marian came to groggily, and found Fenris toppled next to her on the bed, his tawny complexion ashen, and beads of sweat collecting on his face even as he shivered.

She glanced up at a noise, only to find Bodahn already moving to Fenris’ side.

“Wound fever. Bodahn, I hate to ask you to venture to Darktown alone, but please, I need Anders, and I need him here now. Fenris will die if he isn't healed.”

Marian was amazed to hear her own voice so calm and collected, and she stood and carefully walked to the bathing room. She splashed herself with cold water, then grabbed a cloth and soaked it. She picked up a pitcher from the shelf and filled it, then returned to her lover, still moving carefully and methodically.

She began by laying the cool cloth over his forehead, even as he grimaced and batted weakly at her hands. 

“Hush, amatus. Leave it be for me,” she murmured. “Stay with us, love. Your babe and I need you.”

She carefully lifted his shirt, and hissed at the red inflammation around his wound. 

“Hurry, Anders. I can't lose him.”

Her own fatigue forgotten, she went looking for healing and lyrium potions, and called Orana.

“Fenris is ill. He's taken wound fever, despite Anders’ healing yesterday. I've sent for Anders, but I'll need your help.”

“I knew he looked unwell, but wound fever? He … he could…” The elven servant seemed unable to continue.

“We won't let him die. Send a runner, I need Varric and his silver tongue to run an errand for me to Knight-Captain Rutherford. We need Bethany.”

“I can do that. Go to Lowtown, I mean. It's the middle of the day, and I've been visiting Merrill and Isabela on my days off. I'll go right now.”

“Alright, but be cautious. I'll not have you risk yourself, and neither would Fenris.”

“Mistress, with all due respect. He would give anything to keep you safe.”

Orana left quickly, and Bear joined her, sniffing at Fenris’ hand. The old mabari hopped up on the bed to inspect Fenris, sniffing carefully, and whined when he reached Fenris’ inflamed scar.  Marian opened the curtains, allowing more sunlight to fall over the bed, and stepped closer. There was a raised spot just below the scar, and when she pressed it lightly, Fenris groaned and thrashed.

His flesh was scorching, she realized, and she quickly wet the cloth, and ran it over his torso carefully. He shivered, and she swore, uncertain whether to treat the fever or the chills.

A commotion came from below, and Anders flew into the room, followed a few moments later by Bodahn and Sandal.

“That was quick. Anders, please, something is still wrong with his wound, it's inflamed, and he collapsed. He has a fever. Please, help him!”

“I'll try, Marian, I will honestly try. I may not have enough strength for something so severe. If his blood is poisoned, I may not be able…”

“No! I've sent Varric to bring Bethany. With her strength as well, it should be possible to heal him. Please. I can't lose him. Not now…” She laid a hand over her abdomen as she spoke, which Anders immediately noticed.

“He had a chance to tell you then. Hawke…  _ Marian _ , for the sake of that babe, you must remain calm and conserve your energy.”

“Remain calm? How can I possibly do that Anders? Please, tell me.”

“I… I don't know. Come, hold his wrist on that side. This is going to hurt. Bodahn, you get his legs, Sandal, his other wrist.”

Anders quickly stripped Fenris’ shirt from him, then spread his hands above the stricken elf, and the blue glow of his healing magic swept down his arms. Even unconscious, Fenris tensed, his back bowing off the bed. He let out a groan, and fought the hands holding him.  A flicker of light swept over his tattoos, and Anders swore sharply.

“Marian, talk to him!” the healer ordered. “The pain of his tattoos added on top of this healing could stop his heart!” 

He focused on Fenris again as she murmured to him, and blanched suddenly, his hands freezing in place just below the scar. 

“This was a bite, yes? I think something broke off in the wound. I don't know how I missed it yesterday.”

“We have to get it out!” Marian burst out, just as Orana returned. “Orana, spare linens, please. You found Varric?”

“Yes, and master Sebastian was with him, they're both going.”

“Thank you.”

She returned her gaze to her wounded lover, blinking back tears at the obvious anguish on his beloved features. She saw a flash of metal, and flinched. 

“Anders, let me speak to him a few more moments. We daren’t restrain him with cords, he'll use his tattoos for certain. Can you numb the pain any more?”

“I've a potion, but it is risky. It could stop his heart on its own. It's from a plant called belladonna.”

“But… his heart already stopped on the way down from the Pit. Can he take it?”

“Belladonna, Anders? Half a dose. I'll block the rest,” came a calm, much missed voice. Marian turned and flung herself into her sister's arms, weeping. Bethany seemed shocked for a moment, then wrapped her arms around her. 

Distantly Marian heard Anders telling Varric to take her place holding Fenris’ arm, and instructing Orana to tuck the linens underneath Fenris as they carefully lifted him.

Anders turned to Marian and Bethany then.

“Come. We don't have much time.” 

He directed Marian to sit at the head of the bed, to keep her hands on Fenris, and to continue to speak to him. Bethany was to sit opposite him, lending her energy to block the pain. He administered half the belladonna with a steady hand, and Marian stroked Fenris’ throat when he grimaced at the bitter potion.

“Anders, we could burn out the infections. You've a deft hand with fire.”

“But control that fine? It could be no wider than a hair,” he argued.

“Then lend it to me. I can do it,” Bethany told him, a quiet assurance about her that gave Marian confidence.

“Can you do that? Lend her your strength, let her guide it?” Marian asked, cautiously. She knew Anders was pricklier than usual lately.

“I… I haven't shared that with anyone since Karl. But… yes, I can.”

He moved to stand behind Bethany, and laid a slender hand on her shoulder. He closed his eyes, and suddenly lit with healing light.

Bethany gave a soft smile, and seemed to gather the light within her, until she held out her hand and a luminous blade coalesced from that energy.

Marian's jaw dropped, and she watched in awe as Bethany carefully made an incision just below Fenris’ scar. She held her hand above the small cut, and a frown creased her brow. She started to sweat slightly, and Orana stepped up and reached across the bed to pat her forehead with a clean cloth. 

“There's definitely something in the wound. A bit of a tooth? What in the Maker's blasted name were you doing fighting a high dragon?! Never mind. I need tweezers. And they need to be as clean as can be.

“Will these do?” Orana asked, pulling a sewing kit from her pocket, and opening it. It was lined in silk, and had been a gift from Marian and Fenris last winter's solstice. Nestled inside were needles of varying sizes, a dainty pair of scissors, a seam ripper, a silver thimble, and tweezers.

She handed them over, and Bethany suddenly held a ball of flame in her palm. She waved the ends of the tweezers in the fire carefully, then clenched her fist, extinguishing the flame. There was a sudden crackling sound and her hand was coated in ice, and she blew across her palm towards the tweezers. A mist of ice flowed over the tweezers, then she snapped her fingers of her frozen hand and it dissipated instantly.

She focused on Fenris again, and recreating the glowing blade, carefully cut deeper at an angle, until finally she stopped. She let it disappear, then took up the tweezers. 

“Justice? I need your eyes,” she murmured, closing her own eyes for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. Anders tensed behind her, then seemed to relax. That crackling energy spread down his arms, and connected with the light surrounding Bethany. The crazed pattern of cracks moved up over the light surrounding her face, and she opened her eyes. 

They glowed an ethereal blue. She looked dispassionately down at Fenris, and inserted the tweezers without hesitation. A mere moment later, she…. they? were withdrawing a chip of white, no larger than a fingernail on a child.

The cracked light receded, leaving Bethany herself, and she bent to lay her hands directly over the wound. She glowed again, but it was Anders who swayed, steadily drained as he fed her energy and strength. Marian passed him a lyrium potion, and he downed it quickly, standing straighter even as he grimaced at the familiar bitterness.

Bethany raised one hand, and a point of flame narrowed on the fingertip of her smallest finger until it seemed to vanish. Then without warning, she stuck her finger into the wound. 

Fenris bowed off the bed at the intrusion, and Marian went back to whispering to him, promising it would be over soon.

_ Maker, let it be over soon!  _ she prayed.

Bethany scowled, her honey-amber eyes narrowed. She drew a deep breath, and again Anders swayed behind her, until tiny cracks appeared over his aura again, and Justice spoke, his unearthly voice booming in the small room. 

**I will lend my strength as well. I was taken from my beloved. Treasure him, Champion.**

“I will. I do,” Marian vowed, stroking her fingers through his hair.

Bethany straightened, her features clearing of the grimace, and she seemed to redouble her focus. Fenris bowed off the bed again, and Marian leaned down to his ear.

“Amatus, be still. Please, we're trying to heal you, but you must be still. I need you, and so does your babe, so please, lie still.”

Marian watched as a muscle clenched in Fenris’ jaw, and his eyes opened slowly, focused on her just a moment, then slid shut again.

“Te amo, amata. Et parare,” he whispered, then seemed to lapse back into unconsciousness.

Marian looked to Orana desperately, who gave a tremulous smile. 

“He loves you, and he'll obey,” she translated.

Marian nodded, a few tears dropped to land on her lover's cheek, and she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“Stay with me, amatus,” she whispered.

Bethany lifted her head a candlemark later, and concentrating, she slowly withdrew her finger from the wound. The blue glow about her brightened for a moment, and a small pink scar was left. 

The next moment, she listed to the side, only to be caught by Varric, meanwhile Anders was caught by Sandal.

“Enchantment,” he murmured solemnly, and he and Bodahn carried the exhausted mage to the guest room. 

Varric carefully laid Bethany down next to Marian's hip, and patted her shoulder. 

“Not bad, Sunshine. Hawke, what else can I do?”

“Bring Cullen, if you can. She's exhausted, but I've not enough knowledge of how to care for a drained mage. He'll get her back to the tower safely. And for all his ranting about his charges, he seems to care as well. Bethany has never been a risk, he'll take care of her.”

“For you, serrah, anything. Oh, and congratulations.”

She whipped her head around to stare, and he shrugged.

“Isabela can't keep a secret when she's happy for you. And drunk. She was listening at the door when Fenris and Anders talked about it at the clinic.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Well, any other news about myself I should hear from others?” she asked sarcastically.

Varric was unfazed. 

“According to rumour…” She snorted, knowing who generally controlled the rumours he told her. “You faced a high dragon and at least half a dozen mature young, along with scores of dragonlings. Your companions were mostly decorative, other than our unconscious friend here, who swept in to save you from a fatal blast.”

“Well, at least that part was true. Did you really have to inflate the numbers? We faced enough.”

“Please, simply adding to the mystique of the Champion,” he proclaimed. “I'll run your errand to Cullen, hopefully your faith in him as a person outweighs his vows as a templar.”

“He allowed her to come in the first place. We have to trust he'll feel responsible now.”

Varric bowed teasingly, and quickly left. Orana stepped closer, and checked on Bethany. 

“Mistress, she's cold. I'll fetch a blanket. I've seen mages, slaves, used to exhaustion for others’ purpose. If not cared for, the exhaustion could be fatal.”

Marian gave a sharp gasp, and rested a protective hand on her sister's head. She  _ was _ cold.

“Thank you. I'd be lost if something were to happen to Bethany.”

Orana quickly slipped out the door, and Bear chose that moment to come in. He hauled himself up onto the bed, and settled against Bethany's side, laying his massive head on her hip, lending his warmth.

“Good boy, Bear,” Marian murmured, her own exhaustion catching up to her. The last week had been one nightmare after another.

Varric re-appeared in the doorway. “Sers Thrask and Keran were waiting in the antechamber the whole time. Thrask is in the library now, and Keran is going to fetch the Knight-Captain. Apparently, you've made an impression, and Cullen told them to fetch him to make sure she returned safely.”

“Thanks, Varric. Think you could entertain Thrask for me? I need to stay with them…” Marian swayed a little where she sat, and Varric gave her his charming smile.

“Spin a tale for our illustrious Templar guest? Madam, it would be my pleasure.” He gave a courtly half-bow, and Marian shooed him out with a laugh, then turned her attention back to Fenris, his breathing finally steady, if shallow.

They'd faced down Danarius together, only to find that Fenris’ sister had betrayed him. She'd barely been able to keep him from killing her. Then Meredith had summoned her to deal with three missing mages, who obviously were apostates and maleficarum, according to the Knight-Commander. Well, she'd been correct in two cases. The third had been a different sort of unpleasant. 

Then the blasted dragon, involving a two day trek to the Bone Pit. That had gone well.

Marian stretched out next to her lover, and wrapped an arm protectively around him. She was relieved to find his fever had abated, nor was he shivering. She cuddled against his side, and her eyes fell shut. 

A warm weight settled over her, and she cracked one eye open, finding Orana spreading a second blanket over Bethany. 

“Wake me when Ser Cullen returns, please. I'd rather face the templars on my feet, if needed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> tu gravidam. Vos erant ‘habens Infantum. = you're pregnant. You're having a baby.
> 
> Te amo, amata. Et parare. = I love you, beloved. I'll obey.


	10. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany returns to the Gallows escorted by Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford. 
> 
> The opening events of Best Served Cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been a chaotic mess, so mea culpa. Our car was totalled (no one in it, no injuries), and my depression and anxiety have been through the roof while I adjust to new meds.
> 
> Thank you for your patience my loves.

Orana woke Marian perhaps half a candlemark later, with a cup of the coffee Isabela had given her. She inhaled the familiar bitter aroma and sighed happily, allowing the heat seeping through the thick mug to warm her hands.

“I take it the Knight-Captain is here?” she asked, taking a careful sip.

“Yes, along with that younger templar, I think his name is Keran? And a Ser Thrask remained.”

“That's good news. Those two both are quite kindly disposed towards me,” she said.

She handed the thick earthenware mug back to Orana and stood carefully, tucking the blanket back around Fenris.

“Orana, quickly. Help me move Fenris this way. Who knows what they'll think to fetch Bethany from my bed with my lover next to her. Let's put a bit of space between them, at least. And make it clear they aren't sharing blankets, literally or figuratively.  I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about Bethany when she's being taken back.”

Together she and Orana rolled Fenris onto his side, and Bear suddenly wedged himself between the two. His tongue lolled out in a doggy grin at Marian, who chuckled as she petted him. 

“Thanks, Bear.”

He huffed at her softly, and she grinned, scratching behind his ears.

She picked up her coffee from the desk, and made her way to the bathing room, taking a moment to splash water on her face. 

“Orana, I'm ravenous. Just some bread and mild cheese though please? And perhaps an egg. Varric is in the library, I take it?”

“Yes, he's entertaining the templars.”

“I'm almost afraid to ask,” she commented drily over her shoulder as she made her way down the stairs. Entering the library, she bit back a laugh as she caught Varric's elaborate tale.

“Our hero fell, her arm bent at an unnatural angle, and just when it seemed the monstrous dragon would finish her, a glowing warrior appeared from nowhere, knocking her aside, but taking the brunt of the attack upon himself!”

Marian leaned against the doorframe and winked when Cullen noticed her, holding a finger to her lips. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, hiding a smile.

“The mighty dragon seized the valiant warrior in its fangs, piercing him through the middle in grievous wound, flinging him about like a mabari with a rat.” Varric paused to take a drink, teasing his rapt audience by pausing longer than necessary. “Our hero sprang to her feet, and running across the field of battle, vaulted to the beast's shoulder. Despite her injury, she nimbly climbed the dragon's neck, and rearing back, struck the beast a fatal blow, driving her blade deep into the dragon's eye.”

Cullen snorted.

“Any of this true, Hawke?”

“Slaughtered employees, dragons, high dragon, yes. Broken arm  _ before _ I was flung away after stabbing it through the eye? No, that part is fiction. Fenris did knock me out of the way of a fire blast, and he was gravely injured though.”

“A dragon though? There hasn't been a dragon sighted north of the sea in years,” Thrask commented lightly, but his skepticism clear. 

Varric reached into the pack at his feet and pulled out an immense fang, nearly a pace in length, and Marian wondered how he'd managed to fit it into his pack in the first place. He tossed it carelessly across to Cullen, who caught it in one hand, eyes wide.

“I saw the archdemon. This is indeed a dragon's tooth.” He ran his fingers down the length, and suddenly drew them back with a hiss, bleeding. Marian whipped a handkerchief from a pocket and handed it over, and Cullen deftly wrapped his finger. “There's a chip missing here…”

“Varric, you picked the fang that nearly killed him?!” Marian demanded, shaking her head.

“I thought Broody would want it. I'll certainly keep it, if you don't,” his eyes tracked past Marian to Fenris, who'd snuck up behind her.

“Fen!” she exclaimed, desperate to fling herself into his arms, but afraid to hurt him. He resolved the conflict by spreading his arms wide, and she rushed to embrace him. She laid her head on his bare shoulder, and only then noticed he hadn't put on a shirt. The two new scars were easily visible on his abdomen, along with a few remaining streaks of blood, and she heard Thrask murmur an apology for doubting the story.

“Don't do that, Thrask, he'll have you buying his drinks out of guilt for a month, if you give him a fingersbreadth,” Fenris warned him with a chuckle, even as he leaned into Marian's arms, needing her strength.

Marian led him to a chair, and pressed him into it, and then wrapped a blanket around his shoulders to keep him from getting a chill.

“No need to fuss, amata,” he told her, but she shook her head. 

“Fenris, yesterday your heart stopped before we even made it back to the city. Healing you took hours, and yet it still wasn’t enough, you took wound fever. We had to request Bethany’s help, and she collapsed at the end of it, she was so drained.”

“I'd wondered. She seemed chilled, I put a second blanket over her, and Bear is keeping her company.”

“Your Mabari?” Cullen asked, his features brightening in a rare smile. That was twice today, he must be in a good mood, Marian mused with a grin. Bear was a favourite topic.

“Indeed. He's old now, so I don't take him out as much, but he's all I have left of Ferelden, other than Bethany.”

“And you said she collapsed? From healing Fenris here?” Cullen asked.

“Exhaustion. My servant is a former slave from Tevinter, she's seen mages collapse like this. And Bethany saved Fenris, make no mistake. That jagged spot on that fang, the missing chip is… huh. Upstairs somewhere I suppose, but until a candlemark ago, it was inside Fenris, and causing wound fever.”

Fenris was absently running his fingers over the new scar, familiarizing himself with its edges, she knew.

“Wound fever is usually deadly, in the later stages. Your sister healed him?”

“Her healing skills are incredible, but she did drain herself. She's shivering. I want her to return to the tower where someone will know how to care for her. I love having my sister with me. But I'll not jeopardize her safety out of a selfish want to have her near. The Tower is where she's safest, because I know she would never do anything to earn the Rite. After all, she's passed her Harrowing.”

Marian was speaking directly to Cullen, and she felt a certain satisfaction as his expression grew pensive.

“I'll go see if I can wake her, but I'm not certain. And if I may be so bold, she'll likely need lyrium. All the more reason for her to be returned quickly.”

 

**

 

Marian climbed the stairs, and found Bethany still and pale, but Bear was unworried beside her, simply lifting his head and yawning as Marian entered the room. She quickly crossed to her sister's side, and felt her forehead, much as she'd done when they were younger, when she'd been responsible for the twins. To her relief, she found she was warming, though not with a fever. 

“Bethany? Love, can you wake up? Please, Bethy, you need to wake up now.”

With a sigh of relief, she watched Bethany's eyelids flutter, and then her sister was groaning in pain and holding a shaking hand against the sunlight streaming through the window. Marian stepped away and drew the curtains, throwing the room into darkness.

“Bethy?” she called softly, making her way back to the bedside. “Come along lovey, you need to get up. You're badly drained, and I don't know how to help you. You have to get back and rest, and be around other mages who will know how to help you.”

“Juzz sleep here…” Bethany slurred, and Marian chuckled. 

“Sorry love, but Varric already fetched you an escort. I've got three friendly templars below, but I've no doubt they know how to be unfriendly as well.”

“Ughhhhh, fine. Let me just check on Fenris before I go. Wait, where is he?” Bethany seemed to suddenly notice he wasn't in the room, and Marian chuckled at her confusion.

“He's in the library, along with Varric, Knight-Captain Cullen, and sers Thrask and Keran. But before we go down to them, I've news.”

“Are you finally marrying Fenris?!” Bethany demanded, excited.

“What? No! Not that I wouldn't… that's not what this is about!” she stated almost sharply, feeling flustered. “I'm pregnant. I just found out, but when would I get to see you again to tell you?”

Bethany gave a squeal of joy, and threw herself at Marian, who stumbled slightly before she caught herself.

“I've probably seven months to go, relax. In the meantime, you need to be well, and to be a model circle mage. I need you here, Bethy.

“I'll be here, I promise. No matter what.”

Marian steadied Bethany as she stood, though the wave of fatigue she felt told her it wouldn't be long before she herself collapsed again. Her stomach growled, and she hoped Orana had managed to assemble a light repast. She grabbed a shirt for Fenris from the wardrobe, and gave Bear another pat.

They made their way downstairs, and Marian chuckled as she heard the solid thump from the bedchamber, and turned to see Bear emerging.

“Come on, then, old boy. I'm certain Knight-Captain Cullen would love to see you.”

They reached the library, and Marian had to bite back a chuckle at the serious Knight-Captain's reaction to Bear. His eyes lit up, his whole demeanor relaxing. Marian realized suddenly that he was a handsome man. The dark circles around his eyes did little to flatter him, and the curls were a bit overdone, but underneath it, she realized there was a man not much younger than herself. She shook her head, and laid a gentle hand at the base Bethany's spine, gently guiding her forward.

“Thank you, Knight-Captain, for allowing her to come to assist Fenris. I…” She froze, thinking of how very close she'd been to losing him this time. “I couldn't bear it, had he died.”

Fenris quickly crossed to her side, wrapping his arms around her and murmuring gentle phrases in Tevene. She was understanding more with each lesson, but at the moment was too shaken to catch more than a word in three.

She turned to face Cullen, who looked at her with something approaching understanding. 

“I lost someone. It changes you,” the normally closed off man said softly. Then he straightened, and eyed Keran sternly. “Not a word, Corporal.”

“No, ser!” Keran snapped to attention, and Marian bit back a smile at the earnest young man. 

Cullen knelt in front of Bear, and offered the old mabari his hand. Bear sniffed at it cautiously, then, his tongue lolling, shoved his massive head underneath Cullen's palm, demanding affection. Cullen gave a low, warm chuckle, and Marian’s eyes flew to meet Bethany's, who was staring back at her in shock. This man, who spoke of loss and understanding, who had once said such cruel things to Marian about mages, was now rubbing the belly of their family pet. A pet who, in their first year in Kirkwall, had nearly taken the hand off someone who tried to paw at Bethany.

“He seems to like you,” Fenris commented blandly, and Cullen looked up, grinning.

“I always wanted one as a boy, but growing up on a farm, we had no need of a war dog. And you are, aren't you, yes?”

Bear gave a happy bark, and proceeded to try to climb onto Cullen's lap, knocking him on his rear and pulling a laugh from him.

“Lulling me into a false sense of security then, are you, old man? And if I were to offer the slightest impertinence or risk to your family--” A low growl cut him off, but he simply grinned again. “Good boy! Just as well I mean no harm. Now, off me, you great lout, I've got duties.”

Cullen gently but firmly shoved the mabari off and onto the floor, then accepted Varric's hand and clambered to his feet. 

“We'd best be off. If you've rested enough then, Bethany?” Cullen asked courteously, his gaze once again professionally neutral. 

“I thank you for allowing me to help my family. Fenris is like a brother to me,” Bethany said softly. “And I've lost one already. I'd rather not repeat the experience.”

Fenris went still against Marian, and as she looked up at him, Marian was surprised to discover a delicate blush colouring his cheeks.

“Not one word, amata,” he growled, staring down at her. She chuckled, and cast her eyes to the side, and Fenris turned to look. 

There was Varric, scratching away with his pen into his notebook. 

“Venedhis! Festis bei umo canavarum, amata!” Fenris muttered against her shoulder, and Marian laughed gaily at the fond complaint.

“I did nothing, how is this my fault?”

“She's your sister, more your fault than mine,” he muttered. 

Bethany stepped closer with a soft smile. “Keep making her happy. That's all I ask. And take care of her.” She wrapped her arms around Fenris in a tight hug, and Marian stifled a laugh at the look of shock on her lover's face.

They walked the four to the door, and Marian watched her sister walk off in the company of three Templars, and yet she had no concern for her safety. Ser Thrask had the rear-guard, and Keran watched ahead. Bethany stumbled suddenly, and Marian smiled to Fenris as Cullen offered her his arm to steady her. 

Perhaps the rift between mages and Templars could be mended. Marian sighed. Not with Meredith leading the Templars though, and Orsino was ineffective with the mages. 

Something had to change.

 

**

 

Fenris recovered more slowly than he’d hoped; the delayed healing, the infection, his heart stopping, all lending to a fatigue that pulled at him. He regained his strength slowly, going for walks around Hightown, at first simply to the Chantry to visit Sebastian and back, then to the market square.  When he got that far, he took to spending time in the courtyard of the kitchen, training at first with pells, rebuilding his strength. It took time for the feeling to come back to his arm, and he could tell when he'd pushed himself too far, for it would tremble and he'd feel his fingers tingling with that peculiar numbness. The last thing one needed when holding a weapon. 

After a fortnight had passed he was strong enough to take up his maul again to train, and he began venturing to Lowtown, though no further than the Hanged Man for a pint with Varric, Isabela, and Merrill. Marian was a constant at his side, though as her pregnancy progressed she found she couldn't stomach the pungent smells from The Hanged Man, and would rather visit with their friends elsewhere. 

He was training in the courtyard when Marian joined him, a letter in her hands and her brow creased with worry. Fenris completed his set, his weakened arm trembling slightly, then he turned to face his lover, his chest heaving with exertion as he carefully slowed his breathing. 

“Trouble, Amata?” he asked softly as he wiped his brow. He paused a moment, then offered her a wry smile. “Of course it is, when is it not?”

She stepped into his arms and dropped her head on his shoulder for a moment, and he bent to place a kiss upon her hair.  As was his wont lately, he laid a tender hand over her abdomen, a quiet greeting to the babe growing in her womb.

“Is it Meredith this time, or Orsino?” he murmured, and she snorted indelicately. 

“Only those two to choose from? Well, you’d be right.  This time it’s Orsino. He’s asked me to come meet him at the Gallows about an issue.  Care to come along to keep me out of trouble?” she teased, and he gave her a broad smile, kissing her on the forehead. 

“As though I could aspire to such a lofty goal,” he retorted. “I’ll certainly join you, though give me a few minutes to wash first please.”

 

** 

 

Marian left Orsino’s office feeling unsettled, and saw Fenris and Aveline were equally concerned. Varric kept his opinion behind his teeth for a change, but they resolved to investigate the Templar-Mage meeting that night in Hightown. Marian watched Fenris rolling his shoulders, and thought about asking him to go home, but knew her lover wouldn’t stand for it. 

When they were attacked by mages and templars working in concert, she swore, regretting that decision. As the courtyard settled after the brief fight, she breathed a sigh of relief, though she winced to see Fenris leaning on his maul. Suddenly he was blasted off his feet as several late-comers to the gathering arrived, and Marian dove back into the fray, terrified and enraged. When the last of their attackers was down, she sprinted to Fenris’ side, and breathed a sigh of relief to see him picking himself up, though he held a hand to his ribs where he’d impacted a marble pillar lining the courtyard. He took a breath and froze, bracing himself against the same pillar. 

“Take it easy, Fen,” Marian told him.  “We’ll check the bodies, see if there’s anything to be found here.” 

Fenris made to protest, but she saw when his breath caught again, and he clutched at his side with a groan. “Amata… Get Sebastian. Right now I’m a liability rather than a help. I’ll head home and get myself patched up.”

Marian was crouched over the body of a Templar, scanning a note. “Well, we’ll see if he’s up for a trip to the docks then.  When Orsino asked me to investigate rebels, I certainly didn’t expect to find mages working with Templars. I suppose it’s a good thing, that despite the violence and hatred they can still cooperate, but to what end?”

Fenris limped along-side Marian until she headed for the Chantry to fetch Sebastian, then paused as he turned to cross the courtyard.

“Be careful, Amata,” he told her with a wince, hunched over his injured ribs. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

Marian gave him a quick kiss, and watched as he moved carefully towards their home. Giving a sigh she turned and mounted the stairs to the Chantry, letting herself and her companions in quietly.

“It's always so peaceful here, day or night,” Aveline pointed out with a sigh of relief as they crossed into the sanctuary. 

“So it is. I wish the rest of the city had this luxury, but as long as the conflict goes on, the Chantry will be alone in this, I fear.” Marian found herself responding somewhat bitterly. She hated the way the Revered Mother refused to step in and mediate between Meredith and Orsino, finding her reasoning feeble in the face of the powderkeg the city had become.  Something had to give. Perhaps if she could speak peacefully to the mages and templars who were working together, convince them that she could work  _ with _ them…

She found Sebastian kneeling before the altar, and cleared her throat quietly. She wasn’t terribly religious herself, but saw no need to be rude. Sebastian turned with a raised eyebrow, inspecting their blood-spattered appearance, and turned back to bow his head before the altar once more.  Standing gracefully, he turned back, nodding to the three of them.

“Where are we off to tonight then, Hawke?” he asked, his brogue rolling softly over the words, even as he led Marian quietly upstairs to his small cell.  He quickly armed himself, strapping himself into his armour with swift movements speaking to his years of experience. He eyed her a moment, then asked the obvious question. “And where is Fenris?”

“Gone home, with broken ribs. He suggested I ask you to join us to the docks. We’ve a warehouse to investigate.” She glanced about, the rows of sleeping cells offering no surety of privacy. “I’ll explain along the way.”

“Certainly.”

 

**

 

After reaching the docks, they were quickly accosted by a band of slavers, and Marian slaughtered them with intense satisfaction. Looting the bodies afterwards afforded them the location of the hideout of this latest gang to try to take over the docks at night.  She made a quick decision to leave them for another day. The warehouse was more urgent; finding out who was organizing the Templars and Mages together was crucial to keep the city from imploding. She only hoped it was someone rational. 

They ran down the docks, and found the warehouse occupied by a large group of Templars and Mages.  Before Marian could utter a word, the mage who had fled the Hightown courtyard earlier that night gave the signal to attack, and though she heard a young Templar give a frantic shout of protest-- _ Keran?!-- _ they were forced to defend themselves. 

With the mages and Templars unwilling to stand down, it quickly turned into a bloodbath, and Marian felt her gorge rising at the senselessness of it.   She  _ wanted _ them to cooperate.  She wanted to stop the mindless fear and hatred that infected her city, but they refused to stop attacking until every man and woman lay dead, save one.

Keran stared about in horror at the carnage, then ran to stand before Marian, pleading with her to believe him. “I swear to you, I didn’t know what they would do!  I don’t hold with kidnapping, I told them just to speak with you, that you would listen! Thrask wanted to go to you, but Grace… she’s bent too many ears, I’m afraid of what she’ll do!”

“Keran, I saved your life! And I’m repaid with--wait, kidnapping? Keran, who have they taken? And where” Marian demanded, her heart pounding with fear. “Keran, after everything I did for you...”

“Trust me, I know.  I still have nightmares of those bloodmages who captured me,” he confessed, shuddering at the memory. “They’ve a camp on the Wounded Coast, messere Hawke. I’m so sorry, I had no chance to warn him.  Your elven warrior… they took him just outside your home.”

Marian felt rage sweep through her, followed by white-hot fear. “Keran, you said Thrask is involved? And Grace? Blast, Thrask I can trust, but Grace… If she hurts him, I swear I will end her,” she snarled.

“What do we do with him, turn him over to the Knight-Commander?” Aveline asked, staring at the young Templar, who blanched at the threat.

“Surely there’s no need for that,” Sebastian interjected. “He made an error in judgement, but he tried to stop his companions from attacking us. He’s already trying to atone.”

Marian cut off their bickering with a slash of her palm, and nodded to Keran. “Get out of here Keran. For your sister’s sake, and for the sake of mine. She wrote that you’ve been kind. Go.”

“I’ll go straight to Macha’s, thank you!”

Keran tore out of the building, and Aveline gave Marian a disapproving look, then sighed.  “I hope you won’t regret that, Marian.”

“I might. I might not.  But now we’ve no time to spare.  If they grabbed Fenris before he got home, he’s injured at the least. And who knows what they’ve done to him in capturing him. We’ve got to go, now.”

She only hoped they weren’t too late.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit as always to my beta, barbex, without whom this wouldn't be coherent.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on Tumblr about this or any of my other fics. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imbiowaresbitch


End file.
